


At the end of the line.

by sergeantbarnes (flyboy_damneron)



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bucky is a criminal/hooker, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Prostitution, Forgive Me, I'm probably forgetting a shitload here, M/M, Physical Abuse, References to Drugs, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Steve is a cop, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 35,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1710506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyboy_damneron/pseuds/sergeantbarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sergeant Steve Rogers of NYPD is sick of getting that same little punk in his interrogation room over and over again. It's like Bucky enjoys getting those handcuffs slapped on his wrists for petty crimes.</p><p>Until he discovers there's more to his cries for attention. Those bruises are coming from somewhere, the fear in his eyes has a source. </p><p>As Steve unravels a network of drugs, prostitution and abuse, he's determined to drag Bucky away from it all and give him a shot at a new life. He'll break the rules to make it happen, if necessary. And God knows Steve likes to play by the rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by this amazing post [ http://winterbucky.co.vu/post/87143111706/inspired-by-this-post-bucky-barnes-is-a-thug-who ].

It was a quiet day at the bureau. Steve sat there in his old chair, his feet kicked up on the metal desk and his blue eyes focused on the ventilator above his head. As the clock ticked away second after second, he counted the times the blades circled in one minute. Meanwhile, he was munching on peanut M & M’s.

“Steve!”

The sharp voice of his superior echoed over the noise of keyboards and the rustling of paper that filled the large space. Steve glared at the entrance of his boss’ office, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Yeah?” he replied, as loudly as the other.

“We’ve got your regular downstairs.”

A few of his colleagues chuckled in amusement, earning an angry glare from Rogers as he hoisted himself out of his chair.

“For the love of God,” he muttered, throwing his bag of M & M’s on his desk before straightening his shirt, “What did he do this time?”

“Shoplifting.”

Another muffled laugh from the other men. Especially Sam seemed to enjoy the fact Steve wasn’t granted an easy day. As he passed by his friend, Rogers slapped the back of the other man’s head and glared down at him.

Unlike his colleagues, Steve wasn’t too lazy to take the stairs, hopping off three steps at a time as he made his way down. With his feet landing on the ground level, he huffed and headed towards the reception desk. The lady behind it, Sharon something, pointed at one of the interrogation rooms across the hall when she saw him coming. This was getting ridiculous.

Slamming the door, Steve glanced at the young man behind the steel table, his handcuffed hands neatly on the cold surface.

“Shoplifting? Really, Bucky? Is that the best you can come up with anymore?”

Two bright blue irises focused on Steve. Slowly, a grin tugged at the other’s full lips. The prick actually enjoyed turning Steve into a department-wide joke. By now, everyone knew there was this one little punk who just kept coming back for this one officer.

Steve had started suspecting Bucky was getting caught on purpose a few weeks ago. Now, his suspicions had been confirmed. Sinking down onto the chair on the other side of the table, the man shook his head.

“You’re going to end up in jail if you keep going like this. The joke ends somewhere and trust me, you would not do well in jail.”

Bucky shrugged, clearly not impressed by the possible consequences he was facing. He’d done everything by now: shoplifting, bar fights, vandalism, joyriding,… His criminal record was miles long. One day, the DA would stop laughing at the petty crimes he pulled. That was the day Steve feared. Bucky was not the kind of criminal that should land his ass in jail.

With an exasperated sigh, Steve leaned back on his chair, his gaze still fixed on the man across the table. How he would ever get through to this man, he just didn’t know. The guy just looked at him, that eternal smug grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, Steve – “

“It’s Sergeant Rogers to you and you know that.”

“Whatever.”

Bucky raised his cuffed hands into the air and glanced away from him with a sigh. Sometimes, Steve just really wanted to strangle this guy. Then again, he knew he couldn’t. For some inexplicable reason, he’d protected him since the first time they’d caught him bashing in some drunk guy’s face over a girl. They’d dragged him off, put him in a cell for the night and let him off with a warning. Since then, Bucky had gathered a whole lot of warnings.

“Look, I can get you off with another warning this time but for the love of all things good, try not to get arrested again. You’d be saving me and yourself a whole lot of trouble.”

Steve leaned forward to open Bucky’s handcuffs, freeing him from the cold steel around his wrists. The other groaned for a moment, pulling back his hands quickly and rising to his feet before Steve.

Tucking the cuffs into his back pocket, Steve opened the door for Bucky and followed him out. Behind the reception, Sharon cast up an amused glance when she saw the two men appear again, sticking out the required forms to them. Steve signed the release form, Bucky got his valuables back and that was that.

Until the young man turned his back towards Steve and headed for the door. In the back of Bucky’s neck, a large bruise in the shape of a hand was clearly visible. There where fingers had dug deep into his flesh, the bruises were darker and there were even small cuts from fingernails that had scratched his skin.

Steve’s stomach turned at the sight and his hand instinctively reached for Bucky’s wrist. The other man turned around, confused and perhaps even slightly scared. From behind the bullet proof glass, Sharon frowned as she watched the scene before her. Quickly, Steve pulled Bucky back into the interrogation room and closed the door.

“What? I thought we were finished here,” the other questioned with a frown.

“The bruise in your neck,” Steve breathed, not entirely sure why he had such a bad feeling about this, “That’s not from a fight.”

For just a split second, Bucky’s arrogance broke and something much more vulnerable rose up from a place deep inside his mind. His otherwise twinkling blues suddenly harboured a fear Steve had never seen before.

“It’s none of your business,” Bucky bit at him when he regained himself, pulling his wrist free from Steve’s grip and stepping back.

His entire posture seemed to change. The otherwise teasing, flirty figure disappeared, making room for a much more defensive stance and a cold stare. It only fuelled Steve’s suspicions there was something more behind all this, he just couldn’t put a finger on it what he felt so worried about.

“If there’s anything – “

“Dude! None of your fucking business!”

And with those words, Bucky was already out the door. Steve was left stunned for a moment before he went after him, realizing he’d already gone. Cursing under his breath, he slammed his hand against the door post. As he looked up, Sharon’s everlasting judging glance rested heavily on him.

“Don’t you have work to do?” he hissed, harsher than he had intended before heading up the stairs again.

James Buchanan Barnes was trouble, no matter when or where you saw him. However this time, Steve had this dark feeling he was in it instead of causing it.


	2. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve rose from his chair, hoisting the bag over his shoulder and glancing at the man next to him. He loved Sam and he couldn’t wish for a better best friend but sometimes he could just punch him right on the nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so I'm really overwhelmed by how much people seem to like this little brain fart of mine. I hadn't expected this kind of amazing response. I really, really, really appreciate it. ^^
> 
> That's why I've decided to already post the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

“So, one of the guys from Narcotics just told me they’re doing a major drugs bust in a few days and they’re basically taking all volunteers they can get.”

Sam’s excited words were completely lost to Steve, who was staring out in front of him with a half – eaten M & M in his mouth. His thoughts were miles away, just playing back the entire confrontation with Bucky earlier that day over and over again. There had been something very disturbing about how quickly the other man’s mood had shifted from idiot to beaten puppy the very moment Steve had mentioned the bruises.

The sharp sound of Sam’s fingers snapping inches away from his face pulled Steve back into reality. Blinking rapidly, he glanced up at his partner with a frown.

“W – What?”

“Have you heard a single word I’ve said?”

Sam glared down at him with that typical raised eyebrow and pouted lips as he leaned against the edge of Steve’s desk. With a sigh, Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry. I’m just – tired.”

He could hear his friend tut beside him before reaching out to the file that laid spread out on top of the desk. It was Bucky’s and Steve knew it by heart. He’d spent the last few hours flipping through every page, every report, trying to find a clue to what was going on.

“Dude, why are you even looking at this? You were involved in ninety percent of these cases, you don’t need a file to know what this dickhead has been up to.”

Sam laughed softly and it annoyed Steve to no end. Pulling the brown carton folder from his friend’s hands again, he made a few unintelligible noises. He stuffed the file into his shoulder bag, far out of Sam’s reach.

“Whoa there, grumpy pants.”

Steve rose from his chair, hoisting the bag over his shoulder and glancing at the man next to him. He loved Sam and he couldn’t wish for a better best friend but sometimes he could just punch him right on the nose.

“Something’s not right and I’m going to find out what. With or without your help, it doesn’t matter,” he mumbled, gathering the last of his stuff before walking around the desk and towards the exit.

“What’re you – Hey! Steve!”

Before he knew it, Sam had caught up with him, slipping into his leather jacket on the way down the stairs. He could feel his friend was filled with questions but he wasn’t very eager to talk about this at the bureau. His gut feeling told him they had to keep this off the record.

When they stepped out into the cold December air, Steve zipped up his jacket and blew out a puff of smoke. Sam shivered beside him, grumbling something about hating winter. Without saying a word, Steve started off into the direction of the nearest pub. It was a noisy, dark place where only cops came after work, but that was exactly what he needed. A place where files and uniforms were common.

Sam followed quietly, glancing at him once in a while but afraid to break the silence too soon. Steve appreciated that. Ever since they’d met at high school, they’d known exactly when the other needed a talk, a night out or a manly hug. Their friendship had been strong enough to lead them to police academy together, graduation and eventually the same bureau. Thank God their superior had seen the benefits in teaming them up.

Entering the pub, Steve’s eyes had to get used to the dimmed light inside. He quickly found an empty booth in the back, where they were out of the sight of most other patrons but they had clear view on the entrance. Steve slipped behind the table and sat down. After ordering two beers, he could see the curiosity in Sam was almost growing too strong.

To be quite honest, he had no idea how to explain this.

“Don’t laugh but my gut is telling me there’s more behind Bucky’s constant stream of little crimes,” he explained, running a hand through his short, dark blond locks.

As he noticed the twinkle in Sam’s eyes, he quickly added: “Now don’t go saying he’s got a crush on me. Don’t be a prick like half of the department.”

Raising his hands into the air just a bit, Sam let out a chuckle. His fingers then wrapped around the cold bottle of beer in front of him and brought it to his lips. After swallowing, he asked: “Then what? Why would he try to draw your attention if it’s not because of a very obvious crush?”

Steve rolled his eyes at that comment. Not that it really surprised him. If there was one person to suggest something like that even after Steve had told him not to, it was Sam Wilson.

“When I was about to release him earlier today, I noticed something. He had a huge bruise in his neck, clearly shaped like a hand. As if someone had grabbed his neck really tightly. We could’ve gotten bloody fingerprints of it! That doesn’t get there out of nowhere.”

Steve noticed a shift in Sam’s expression as he leaned forward. Perhaps he’d been wrong to think his friend wouldn’t follow his reasoning. Biting his lower lip, he waited for a reaction, a validation that his gut feeling was right.

“Maybe he got it in a fight or something? We know he does that a lot when he’s got too much liquor in his veins,” Sam suggested hesitantly.

Shaking his head, Steve leaned back against the bench.

“I don’t think so. How would you do that? I mean, in a fight, you punch. Even if someone had tried to strangle him, the bruise would’ve been on his throat, not the back of his neck. It was more like – “

He stretched out his arm, fingers turning to claws as he demonstrated the move.

“Like someone held him down from behind. He even had scratch marks.”

With a sigh, his hand dropped to his lap again and he followed Sam’s example in taking a gulp from his beer. For a moment, the two men just sat there; each staring at a different point in the distance, both trying to find some kind of explanation.

“But who would do that? And why?”

“Not a single fucking clue and it’s frustrating me. When I confronted him about it, he got all defensive. It just doesn’t add up.”

“What were you hoping to find in his file?”

At the question, Steve dug into his shoulderbag and pulled out the thick brown folder. Dropping it onto the table, he glanced down at the name on the front. James Buchanan Barnes. He was older than Steve, about three or four years if he remembered correctly. Mother had died when he was a child, father had died in an accident during his military training. He’d gone from orphanage to foster family and back until his eighteenth birthday. Since that day, he hadn’t had a single known address or job.

Steve wondered where Bucky lived. He could imagine a small, filthy flat in one of the poorer neighbourhoods of the city, in a building where stray cats and junkies found their residence. He wondered if Bucky was a user. None of the reports included notes on injection scars or the like, but that wasn’t a guarantee. People were inventive these days.

Drawing away his eyes from the file, Steve shrugged.

“Something, anything. The reports are horribly vague, there’s no pattern in when he got arrested, no hints or clues in his statements,… I’m starting to believe I’m seeing ghosts. Just – that bruise.”

“Hey, if you feel there’s more to it, then there’s more to it. Listen to that gut feeling. Solve this. Who knows what you find. You might be onto some underground street fight organization for all we know. Imagine the promotion that comes with that.”

Steve glanced at his friend, not able to hold back a short laugh.

“You know I don’t care about promotion.”

“Hell, everyone cares about promotion! And I’m with you, pal. Whatever you need, give me a call and I’ll be your sidekick. Now – “

He downed the last of his beer and raised his hand at the waitress again.

“I’m buying us another round and we’ll have a look at that file again. Talk me through it.”


	3. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stepping inside, Bucky’s gaze fell on the figure sitting on one of the couches. A trail of smoke drifted up from the end of the Boss’ expensive Cuban cigar. The man’s cold blue eyes rested on him, almost like a snake waiting for the right moment to attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: this chapter will contain physical and sexual abuse so if any of my lovely readers is uncomfortable with this, perhaps it's better to skip this one.

Bucky knew he was in deep trouble. He wouldn’t be able to keep his little trip to the police station a secret for the Boss. He had eyes everywhere, spying on all the little birds that escaped the nest from time to time. It was like he could already feel the older man’s eyes burn on his back and for a moment, Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his jacket.

Without thinking about it, his feet carried him through Brooklyn. He kept his head low, never looking anyone in the eye. Not that anyone really noticed him. People ignored each other on the street, especially if they didn’t know each other. The time you could carelessly smile at a stranger and get a polite greeting back were long gone.

As he turned one of the last corners, Bucky stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t noticed his heart had started beating faster with every step he came closer to his destination. The Boss would know if he was scared and it’d only make things worse. He liked it when people feared him.

In an attempt to calm himself down, he dug into one of his pockets and clumsily pulled a cigarette out. His hands were shaking.

“Jesus Christ, don’t be pathetic,” he mumbled to himself before placing the cigarette between his lips.

Bucky liked to make himself believe he didn’t care, that it wasn’t all so bad and that he could take it. He knew it were lies of the worst kind, yet he kept repeating the words in his mind until they had a soothing effect. Perhaps the nicotine he sucked into his lungs did more to calm him than he thought.

Picking up a pace again, he walked down the street, more confident this time. He could do this, he wouldn’t be weak like he usually was.

When he arrived at the building he had so mindlessly found in this crowded city, he stomped out the cigarette bud and glanced up at the façade. It was one of those typical rowhouses with large windows and a few steps up to reach the front door. There was nothing special about it, compared to the other houses in the tree-lined street, and the neighbours had been told it was inhabited by a bedridden elderly lady who had a very big and very concerned family. All that to conceal what was just a fancy crack house with a bit of prostitution on the side.

Eventually, after gathering all the courage he had left, Bucky walked up to the front door and knocked. Only a few seconds later, the door was opened to let him in. The man, a familiar face without a name, gestured he should walk through to what used to be the living room. That was never a good sign.

Stepping inside, Bucky’s gaze fell on the figure sitting on one of the couches. A trail of smoke drifted up from the end of the Boss’ expensive Cuban cigar. The man’s cold blue eyes rested on him, almost like a snake waiting for the right moment to attack.

“You’ve been naughty again.”

When the man finally spoke, a shiver rolled down Bucky’s spine and he dropped his chin to his chest. He wasn’t brave enough to face this.

Rustling, footsteps and then, a hand tugging at his hair. Bucky’s head jerked back at the force of the pull, clenching his jaws not to utter a single sound of pain. He was taller than the Boss, but he knew he could never get out alive if he fought back. The gun at the waist of the man who’d let him in made that painfully clear.

Excruciatingly slowly, a cloud of cigar smoke was blown into his face and Bucky did his best not to cough. Any and every reaction would only please the other man and probably make things worse than they already were.

“Tell me, boy. Where have you been?”

It was frightening how calm and controlled the Boss remained, which could only mean the real punishment was yet to come.

Bucky licked his lips, swallowed and then hesitantly spoke.

“The police station, sir,” he replied in a whisper, unsure if his words could have any effect on the treatment that was waiting for him.

“And why did you go there?”

“Because I was arrested for shoplifting, sir.”

The hand disappeared out of Bucky’s hair, leaving his muscles protesting as he brought his head back into a more normal position.

Out of nowhere, another hand came at him, slapping him in the face hard enough to make him stumble and fall. Bucky was left dazed for a moment, supporting himself with one hand on the rough carpet as the other covered his burning cheek. There where the Boss’ heavy silver ring had grazed his cheekbone, he could feel how his skin had torn. Every touch sent a stinging pain through the small wound.

“Such a stupid, stupid boy. I thought you had learned by now. Such a pity,” he could hear the Boss mumble.

He stayed still, facing the ground and not moving a single muscle as he waited for permission to stand up again. It wasn’t given explicitly until two strong hands gripped tightly around his upper arms and he was lifted into the air. Obediently following the harsh commands of one of the Boss’ minions, he climbed up.

“Bring him up to Saunders. He’s waiting.”

Bucky’s stomach turned at the mention of that name. Saunders was a cruel man with a taste for the unusual. Every visit to him would leave Bucky bruised and sore for days. He was on the verge of begging, but realized it would be to no avail.

He felt like a lamb ready for slaughter as he walked up the stairs to the bedrooms. He already knew which door he would be led to. Saunders preferred the one in the back, where every sound was muffled.

Just as he had expected, the last door of the hallway was opened and he was pushed in. A tall man with broad shoulders and wild, dark hair glanced up at them, a shark-like smile growing at his lips. When he approached, however, he frowned.

“He’s a bit damaged,” he protested, taking Bucky’s chin between his fingers and holding his wounded cheek up to the light, “That takes at least twenty bucks off his price.”

His guard – or handler, he didn’t see much difference – cast out a hoarse laugh.

“And twenty minutes off your time. We don’t negotiate, Saunders.”

The taller man grumbled angrily but nodded anyway. The door was closed and subsequently locked. It was all too clear Bucky had nowhere to run.

Without any warning, Bucky was thrown onto the bed, his face burying in the silk sheets. He didn’t protest when he felt the cold steel of handcuffs around his wrists for the second time that day, only this time, they were tightened just enough to make it hurt.

Stay calm, bite the pillow and think of some place nice.

Bucky repeated the words in his mind like a mantra, trying to shut out the sickening feeling of Saunders’ hands on his body. Squeezing his eyes shut, he clenched his jaws, inhaled deeply and forced himself to think of something else.

His thoughts instinctively wandered back to the police station, to the interrogation room. To Steve. If only Rogers had locked him in a cell. He would’ve been safe there. He wouldn’t have been alone there.


	4. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nobody can help me,” Bucky whispered with a shaking voice as tears welled in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank Darkness_Angels for this quick update. I wasn't planning to post so quickly after my last two chapters but I couldn't resist her pleas. ^^ Enjoy.

Steve wondered why he’d let Sam drag him into this. Drug busts really weren’t their division, but it seemed their colleagues from Narcotics needed a hand with this raid. Apparently this was a crack house that had a major role in some drug network they were slowly dismantling. Steve hadn’t really paid attention during the briefing. Ever since he’d noticed the bruising in Bucky’s neck, his mind had been far away from his job.

Sam nudged him lightly under the table, glaring at him. Turning his head, Steve noticed they were meant to stand up and divide into teams of five. As little groups formed throughout the large briefing room, someone cleared their throat behind his back.

“Mind if I join you?” a soft, husky voice spoke.

“Of course, ma’am,” Sam replied eagerly as he faced their superior.

Natasha Romanov was a mystery to all her friends and coworkers. The redhead was obviously of Russian descent but nobody really knew if she was born there or in the States. Her age was an even bigger question mark. What everyone did know, was that she was not a boss to mess around with. She had a tight grip on the men and women ranking below her, leading to their bureau having the highest success rates for three years in a row.

Steve nodded at Natasha with a friendly smile, which was answered in the same way. After a minute or so, two other familiar faces joined as well to complete their little team. Rumlow and Sharon could be considered friends, even if Steve had barely spoken them the last couple of weeks.

“Did they finally let you out of your cage, Sharon? You do look so fine behind glass.”

It was a typical Rumlow joke and a predictable response followed. The smack against his cheek wasn’t meant to actually cause harm, but it did leave him confused for a few moments. Steve could only chuckle. Brock Rumlow was a fine cop and a remotely good guy, but his sexism sometimes really drove people insane.

They were stuffed in the back of a van together with another team of five and driven off to the location they were supposed to raid. It was somewhere on the edge of Brooklyn, in a rather filthy looking street. The driver parked a few houses further as not to raise suspicion.

Guns were checked for the last time, helmets were tightened and bulletproof vests were secured. The tension inside the van was making people nervously shift in their seat. It was clear this was important and failure was not an option.

In the front, the crackling of a radio pierced the silence that had fallen. The go signal was given. In a matter of seconds, the back doors were thrown open and the two teams of heavily armed police officers poured out of the van. The same scenario happened throughout the entire street. Steve estimated there were about fifty officers roaming around when everyone had gotten out.

Positions were taken, guns aimed at the windows and doors of the house. What followed was a mess of breaking glass, shouting and gunfire. The radio on Steve’s shoulder spit out a wave of alarm signals. He shivered at the dreaded words.

Agent down.

When he noticed the basic troops weren’t sufficient, he glanced over at his team members. They all seemed to have the same idea: it was time for them to go in. They didn’t hesitate a second longer before making their way up to the front door of the house.

Inside, he could hear men and women shout. He wasn’t too sure which voices belonged to cops and which to druggies. It didn’t matter.

“Check the kitchen!” Natasha ordered, gesturing at Sam and Steve.

After nodding to signal they’d understood the order, they advanced through the abandoned living room to the back of the house. Before they could even reach the opening of the door, shots were fired. Quickly they ducked behind a nearby couch.

Steve’s heart was racing. It was as if the only audible thing was the rush of his own blood in his ears. He tried to remain calm, remember his training. Raids really weren’t his thing.

“NYPD!” he shouted eventually, “Drop your weapon and raise your hands in the air.”

There seemed to be hesitation from the shooter in the kitchen. No reply came for almost a minute. Carefully, Steve peaked out from behind the couch, trying to catch a glimpse of who they were up against.

Another shot was aimed at him. Then, the sound of someone crashing into a table and the slamming of a door.

“Damnit, they’ve fled!” Steve groaned before taking off like a bullet from a gun.

He raced through the kitchen, ignoring the seemingly lifeless body on the ground behind the cooking island and jumped out of the back door. He was just in time to see a figure disappear around a corner in the alley behind the house.

Thank God he had a good physique. Ever since he’d been a kid, running had been his big talent. All through high school and police academy, he’d beaten his friends when it came to running. He liked running. However, chasing criminals was something entirely different.

The man he was chasing didn’t seem much of a runner, though. It took Steve barely two minutes to catch up on him. His fingers gripped into the other’s leather jacket, slowing him down significantly before tackling him to the ground.

As he did so, the stranger let out a pained yelp, struggling to fight Steve off. It was only when he pinned the man’s hands to the concrete that he realized he knew that face.

“Bucky?” Steve blurted out in between two gasps for air, his hands still tightly around the other’s wrists.

Bucky froze and stared up at him from behind large aviator sunglasses. One of the glasses had broken during the tackle. Steve wondered why he was wearing sunglasses in the middle of the winter.

“Jesus,” Steve mumbled softly, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Bucky had been in a crack house, had fired at police officers, resisted arrest. This would definitely land him in jail. Goddamnit, he’d warned the little shit.

“C – can you please get off me?”

Bucky’s voice sounded more fragile than Steve could remember. With a frown, he did as he was asked. A few seconds long, Bucky stayed on the ground before climbing up as well, ignoring the hand Steve was holding out to help him.

As he did so, his glasses moved just a bit because apparently the frame had broken too. There were dark purple bruises around Bucky’s right eye, a cut on his left cheek and who knows what else Steve didn’t notice at that moment.

In an impulse, he reached out to Bucky’s face but the other stumbled back to avoid the touch. The look in his bright blue eyes sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. He’d been right to think someone was doing horrible things to Bucky and apparently, they were only getting worse.

“Bucky, what’s going on? Talk to me,” Steve asked in a sigh, his eyes focused on the man before him.

He seemed like a beaten puppy, standing there with his broken aviators on his nose and avoiding every touch or eye contact. It brought a strangely uncomfortable feeling to Steve’s stomach. For some ridiculous reason he had yet to discover, he wanted to protect this guy who clearly didn’t want protection from whatever horrors he was facing.

When Steve’s gaze dropped as well, he noticed another thing that disturbed him. Where the sleeves of Bucky’s jacket ended, he could see the faint shadow of bruises on his wrists as well. Once again in impulse, Steve stepped forward and lifted one of Bucky’s arms.

The other wanted to pull away, however, this time, Steve would not back off that easily. Pushing back the sleeves, painful looking bruises were revealed. He’d seen bruises like that before, on pictures, yet he’d hoped he’d never have to face them in real life.

“These are from handcuffs,” he mumbled in shock, glancing up at Bucky in confusion. “Who’s doing this to you?”

A sarcastic grimace tugged at Bucky’s lips before he pulled back his hand, away from Steve’s grip.

“Why do you care, Sergeant Rogers?” he spat.

He’d clearly not forgotten about Steve’s remark a few days earlier. Steve sighed, shaking his head lightly.

“Because I just do. You’re not fooling me, Bucky. I’ve seen enough to know when something bad is going on. Just talk to me, I can help you. Let me help you.”

With an exasperated sigh, Steve dropped his hands. He had no clue if his plea had had any effect on Bucky. The other just stood there, looking at him with those bright blue eyes. And then something terrifying broke through on Bucky’s face. Never in his life had Steve seen a man so broken. It was as if a mask fell off, revealing the man underneath the smug grin.

“Nobody can help me,” Bucky whispered with a shaking voice as tears welled in his eyes.

Steve stepped closer, stretching out a hand to him and opening his mouth again to say something but he was interrupted by the sound of Sam’s voice.

“Steve!?”

Looking over his shoulder, Steve noticed his partner appearing from around the corner. By the time he glanced back at where Bucky was supposed to stand, he’d fled into the busy streets of Brooklyn. With a frustrated growl, Steve kicked at one of the trash bins in the alley.

He made his way towards his partner with large, angry steps and grumbled curses whispered under his breath.

“Dude, was that – ?” Sam started out in confusion.

“Yes, that was Bucky,” Steve hissed, angrier at himself than anything else, “Someone’s doing nasty stuff to him and I’m going to find out who. Even if it’s the last thing I do, for fuck’s sake!”


	5. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You were such a lovely boy when I found you in that orphanage: polite, kind, obedient. And those eyes. You have such beautiful eyes,” the Boss sighed, tilting his head a bit while he kept staring at Bucky, almost in pity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up to all my lovely readers: this chapter will contain physical and sexual abuse so if you're not comfortable with that, you might want to skip this one.
> 
> Also, on a different note: updates might take longer as I'm entering my exam period and I'll need every hour I can get to study. I'm sorry, guys :/

It was strange to see just how much his life had changed over the past few years. Bucky was twenty-five now but he felt much older. He felt like he already had an entire life behind him. Sadly, that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t be dying just yet, even though sometimes, he longed for it to happen. He longed for a better place.

In the bedroom on the other side of the door, he could hear the quick footsteps of a client rushing to get out of this place. At least he had a home to go back to, a wife to love and children to read bedtime stories to. He’d slip his wedding ring back on, drive home in his expensive car and act like he hadn’t just paid a large sum of money to have a twenty-five year-old male hooker all to himself for two hours.

A sudden wave of nausea forced Bucky on his knees, puking out a day’s worth of food into the toilet. He was trembling like a leaf when his stomach was finally empty and ever muscle in his body ached. Pushing back a few tears with the back of his hand, he climbed up again to wash his face.

He looked like a ghost. That was the only conclusion he could draw when he stared into the mirror. His own reflection disgusted him. Thank God there was nothing left in his stomach to come out. The dark circles around his face had only grown more obvious now he looked pale as a sheet.

His gaze dropped to his chest, where several scratch marks covered his skin. They were deep enough to bleed. He could have blood stains on his shirt. The Boss would beat him if he ruined his clothes. Wincing at every touch, he began to clean the wounds with some cold water.

Once that was done and he was certain the client had left, Bucky walked back into the bedroom to collect his clothes. However, they had already been gathered by one of the Boss’ minions. Only his boxers had been left for him to put on. After slipping into them, he was pushed out in front of the man, down the stairs and into the living room.

Nothing had really changed since he’d last faced the older man he owed his suicidal thoughts to. A tense silence fell in the room.

“I don’t understand,” the Boss finally sighed, raising his hands in the air, “I’ve been taking care of you for so long and this is how you repay me?”

Bucky couldn’t really follow where this was going or where it was coming from but he stayed silent. He didn’t want to provoke the man into hurting him.

“It’s so sad, James. So incredibly sad. I saw so much potential in you but now you’re making me do all this to you.”

He could hear the older man approach and he winced when his hand lifted Bucky’s head to look at him. His eyes were dead, staring deep into Bucky’s soul before the man patted him on the cheek.

“You were such a lovely boy when I found you in that orphanage: polite, kind, obedient. And those eyes. You have such beautiful eyes,” the Boss sighed, tilting his head a bit while he kept staring at Bucky, almost in pity.

Slowly, he stepped back to get a better look at him. Bucky felt uncomfortable under his gaze. His body was a wreck after serving as the man’s most prized play toy for hire since his eighteenth birthday. Perhaps, if it’d only been sex, he wouldn’t be in the state he was in now. Perhaps he would’ve been able to handle it. Unfortunately, most of his clients preferred something rougher and less consensual.

“You know, it was such a shock to me when I found out you betrayed us – “

Bucky’s head shot up at the words and he blurted out an impulsive: “What?”

The Boss froze for a moment, frowning at the sudden protest that came from him. This wasn’t how things usually went.

“I – I didn’t betray you, sir,” Bucky mumbled weakly, his mind raging to find an explanation for this ridiculous assumption.

“Then how do you explain the fact you were seen talking to a cop in the alley behind one of my houses the police was raiding yesterday?”

Bucky could punch himself for his own stupidity. Of course he’d find out about what had happened there with Steve. He should’ve confessed it to him, his punishment would’ve been much lighter.

“That – I wasn’t betraying you, sir! Please, you have to believe me! I was in the house to deliver that package for you when the police attacked! I managed to run but one of them came after me. I got away! I would never betray you! I swear!” Bucky pleaded, praying to God that he’d believe him.

The Boss slowly shook his head, almost in pity. When he looked at Bucky again, he knew begging would have no use. It was clear the other had made up his mind already and wasn’t going to change it.

“You are the only one who escaped that raid, boy. You were seen talking to a cop, who then let you get away. You understand how this looks, don’t you?”

“Yes – Yes, I do! But it’s not true!”

The Boss sighed warily, almost looking sad as he glanced at Bucky. With a flick of his hand, four of his strongest men appeared from every corner of the house, driving Bucky into a corner.

“See this as a bonus, boys. He’s all yours for the night. Just don’t kill him. He’s still too popular to dispose of.”

All mercy had disappeared from the Boss’ voice when he gave his men their orders. Bucky heaved for air, glancing from one to another in an attempt to make eye contact and find some kind of hope. He didn’t.

When the first man lunged out at him, the Boss had already left the house. The punch dazed Bucky long enough for them to drag him out of his corner. One pulled his arms back painfully, his shoulders screaming under the pressure before he was thrown down. He tried to crawl away but two strong hands already gripped around his ankles to pull him back. His nails scraped across the hard wooden floor as he slid back towards the four.

Out of nowhere, one of them kicked him in his side and he gasped for air as he rolled onto his back. He laid there, still wearing nothing but his boxershorts and barely able to move. Meanwhile, he could hear the four men laugh.

“Who’s gonna go first?”

“Ah, doesn’t matter. As long as everyone gets a go.”

“Or two. He won’t be going anywhere in the next couple of hours and you heard the boss: we’ve got him all night.”

Even through his immobilizing pain, Bucky realized what they were up to. The fear took over and as he bit through the pain, he climbed up. His attempt to escape was noticed not a second later, after which one of the men slammed him with his face against the wall. Bucky whined, tears streaming down his face as he felt how his boxers were pulled down.

“Oh, he’s vocal!” the man laughed, “Beg for me. Come on, I know you want to.”

“P – Please,” Bucky sobbed, fingers digging into the wallpaper.

There was no reply but the sound of pants unzipping. Bucky closed his eyes, but this was not a pain he could shut out. He screamed.


	6. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I honestly don’t know, Sam. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me. It’s like – like he’s undressing me with his eyes but at the same time begging for help. I can’t describe it.”

Chewing on a pencil, Steve stared out in front of him. He’d never been one for paperwork and unfortunately, that was a large part of his job lately. At the desk next to him, Sam had been buried in forms and files as well. Occasionally, his partner would grunt and groan, get a fresh cup of coffee and disappear behind the piles of paper again.

Steve’s lack of concentration couldn’t be entirely blamed on his dislike of filling in forms, however. As per usual, his thoughts were with Bucky instead of in the present. He hadn’t been sighted since the raid two days ago. Steve could only guess where he was or if he was okay.

Another moan coming from Sam pulled Steve back from deep inside his own head. He watched his best friend stretch out over the back of his chair, nearly falling over as he did so. It brought a little grin to Steve’s lips. Standing up, Sam glanced over at him.

“Wanna go grab a cup of coffee? I seriously need to move my legs before they fall off,” he smirked, reaching down to massage his upper legs for a bit.

Steve nodded mindlessly, following Sam’s example and standing up. His own legs felt sore as well. Sitting down an entire day really wasn’t good for him. When he stretched his back, he could feel his muscles protest against the movement. Perhaps he should start taking morning runs again.

The two men walked towards the vending machines in the hallway in silence, both numbed by the tiring work Natasha had put them on. Scanning through old files to see which could be sent to the depot on the other side of the city was about the most boring job there was at the bureau. It was also their punishment for letting an unnamed suspect run during the raid. Steve was still grateful Sam had backed him up and hadn’t betrayed it was Bucky that had fled.

Leaning against the wall beside the machine, the man’s dark brown eyes rested on Steve as he bought himself a black coffee. While the thing buzzed and squeaked, Steve glanced at him, meeting a curious glance.

“You really worry about him, don’t you?” Sam asked softly, leaving all the sarcasm he could’ve put in those words behind.

Steve replied with a nod and a sigh before putting the plastic cup at his lips. At the first gulp, he realized he’d made a huge mistake. The coffee in that thing was horrible without any milk, yet he took another sip. He needed the caffeine to stay awake, to be quite honest. The past few nights had been full of anything but sleep.

They swapped places, Steve now being the one who leaned against the cold wall. Letting his head fall back, he stared up at the once white ceiling. He could see a spider racing across the slightly yellow surface before hiding in a crack near the corner.

“No offense, Stevie, but why? I mean, he isn’t any different from the other idiots that pass through here every day.”

Sam was right. There really wasn’t anything that made Bucky stand out from the other stubborn assholes that knew the cells downstairs like their inside pockets. He’d been thinking about that too the past few days, but he just couldn’t put his finger on why he cared for this one particular guy.

He shrugged, letting a sigh escape from his nose after taking another gulp of coffee.

“I honestly don’t know, Sam. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me. It’s like – like he’s undressing me with his eyes but at the same time begging for help. I can’t describe it.”

Sam sighed as well, nudging his friend lightly.

“We’ll help him. Promise.”

Steve turned to look at his best friend again, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reached out for Sam’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. He really didn’t know how he could ever survive without him.

“Sergeant Rogers?”

Their little moment was broken by the sound of Natasha’s voice, causing both men to look up with a frown. The redheaded woman looked at them, her expression dark. Steve could feel his stomach turn as he questioned himself why she could need him.

“My office. Now.”

It was an order, that was certain, but it wasn’t barked at him. It seemed more like a careful question. After shooting a confused glance at Sam, Steve swallowed the last of his coffee, aimed the cup into a nearby bin and followed his superior into her office in the back.

After a gesture of her that he could sit down, Steve did exactly that.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked hesitantly, not entirely sure if he even wanted an answer to that.

Natasha sighed and folded her hands on top of the papers on her desk. The news had to be important or bad, that much Steve had figured out by himself.

“About two hours ago, a young man between twenty and thirty years of age jumped of the roof of an apartment building on Fifth Avenue in Sunset Park. He was dead on impact. He carried no identification or anything that can tie him to family or friends. His face was terribly bruised, making identification even more difficult,” she explained, glancing up at him.

“Suicide?” Steve asked, still confused as to what this had to do with him.

“We believe so, yes.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because one of the first officers on the scene recognized the necklace the victim was wearing.”

Carefully, Natasha pulled a little plastic bag from underneath one of the papers. Inside was a silver necklace with a small pendant in the shape of a star with a pair of initials engraved on the back: JBB.

Steve could feel his stomach turn and he was certain he had gone completely pale. It was Bucky’s necklace, without a doubt. He’d noticed it around Bucky’s neck so many times before. It took him less than a second to recognize it.

Slowly, he shook his head, unable to believe Bucky had killed himself. He would’ve noticed if things had really been this bad. Shaking his head, Steve leaned back in his chair.

“No,” he mumbled with a shaking voice, “It has to be someone else. It can’t be him.”

Natasha sighed, pursing her lips a bit and tilting her head. It was easy to tell the news upset Steve and for a moment, she looked worried.

“The body hasn’t been identified yet. Seeing as you’re the one who’s had the most contact with him, I’d like to ask you to do that. If it is Barnes, we can’t go to his family.”

Steve nodded, already rising from his chair. His hands shook so he pushed them deep into the pockets of his jeans and straightened his back.

“It’s not him”, he repeated, firmer this time, before walking out of the office.

Sam stared at him, his eyes big in curiosity but Steve couldn’t muster the strength to explain. His friend just sighed, nodded and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair when Steve did the same. Once again, he’d been able to tell Steve would need him, where-ever they might be going.

The entire ride to the morgue went by unnoticed to Steve. He just stared out of the window of the police car, his thoughts seemingly on another planet. Sam didn’t say a word, allowing Steve the silence and space he needed. When they finally arrived at the hospital, they took the elevator down into the basement in that same silence. Not that he didn’t glance at Steve once in a while, question marks clear in his eyes.

When Steve asked for the suicide victim at the desk of the morgue, Sam couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“What’s going on?” he breathed, his tone worried.

“They think it’s Bucky,” Steve murmured with his gaze focused on his hands.

Sam sighed deeply before following the woman of the morgue and Steve inside one of the cold rooms. A little metal door was opened and a body underneath a white sheet rolled out. Steve tensed up as she pulled back the white linen to reveal the body’s face. He felt like he could faint any moment now. And then he glanced down.

“That’s not Bucky,” Steve whispered in relief.


	7. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me help you. Please,” Steve whispered, his voice shaking as he rested his hand on Bucky’s cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /grumbles/   
> Don't you just love how exams tend to give you a writer's block? Good thing I always keep at least one chapter in reserve just in case.   
> Anyway, enjoy! :3

Steve pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket as he made his way down the front steps of the hospital, Sam following in his tracks. Reaching the last step, he felt a strong hand grip around his wrist. When he glanced over his shoulder, Sam glanced at him with a confused and slightly displeased look.

“You’re gonna stop right there and explain a few things to me, Stevie,” he said firmly, the tone of his voice leaving no question about his demands.

Of course Steve knew he was being a bit of a dick towards his best friend. The scarce few words he’d said the past hour hadn’t exactly made things clearer for Sam. Steve turned around completely to face the other.

“First of all, why did you just call Natasha to tell her that body’s Bucky’s? I’m not deaf, I clearly heard you say it wasn’t him in there.”

With a sigh, Steve rubbed his temple for a moment, taking the time to glance around and make sure nobody was eavesdropping on them. He needed to be extra careful from now on. Who knows what might happen if someone found out.

“Think about it, Sam. A body drops from a building, with a bashed in face and a necklace that will definitely be recognized as Bucky’s. We already know he’s in some kind of trouble.”

Sam only frowned, clearly not following Steve’s thoughts.

“It’s a trick. Bucky, or someone else, is trying to make the world believe he’s dead. In a rather clumsy way, I’ll admit that, so my guess is this is Bucky’s work.”

This time, Sam’s face lit up and he seemingly picked up on Steve’s trail of thought. Stuffing his hands in his pockets as well and leaning closer, he raised his eyebrows in question.

“So you think he’s trying to escape from something? Or someone?”

Steve nodded, glad his friend understood. Not waiting for another question, Steve turned around on his heels again and began making his way to the waiting police car that would drive them back to the station. Steve’s mind was a chaos of different theories and possibilities, all as ridiculous as the other. If Bucky was hiding somewhere, he had no clue where to start looking for him. He could be anywhere in New York by now.

“What’s the plan of action?”

Sam’s words broke through Steve’s worrying and he glanced to the side with a sigh.

“I’m going to take a look at the building where the body was found. Maybe I’ll find something there. Or get an idea where else to start.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Steve slowly shook his head, shooting his best friend a faint smile.

“Nah. I’ll draw less attention by myself. I’ll keep you updated, though.”

Sam nodded softly before stepping into the police car. Once they both were inside and the doors were closed, the car took off to the other side of Brooklyn again.

It was about a twenty minute drive and by the time they arrived, everyone was heading home for dinner already. Steve ran up to the front desk, where he found Sharon already packing to go home as well. It didn’t take him long to pull the address where Bucky had jumped out of her, in exchange for the promise of taking her for a drink in a few days. Steve didn’t really notice the twinkle in her eyes when he waved at her and disappeared out of the door.

The heavy sound of his Harley was lost in the chaos of rush hour as Steve made his way through traffic. Sometimes, riding a motorcycle was a blessing. No traffic jams for him. He could just make his way in between two lanes.

It didn’t take long to find the right building once he was on Fifth Avenue. Glancing up, he stepped off his bike and took off his helmet. He could feel his hair was a mess. Not that he cared.

The building housed about seven apartments. None of the owners could be connected to Bucky. It seemed he’d chosen this place randomly. Steve peered up against façade, counting six floors, not including ground level. The impact on the body must’ve been huge. Enough to make it unrecognizable. Besides that, there was nothing Steve could see that was of any importance.

Still, something bothered him. Why here, he wondered. There must’ve been some reason to choose exactly this spot. Even if this had been a real suicide, he was sure Bucky would’ve chosen a place that meant something to him. And then there was this feeling that this street was familiar. He’d seen the name Fifth Avenue before but couldn’t remember where.

He decided to take a stroll up and down the street, to see if he could find anything that tied back to Bucky. He was already on his way back towards his bike on the other side of the street when he froze in front of an abandoned building.

The structure was old, looking as if it was about to collapse. It was made of dark red brick, with white window frames and a heavy wooden door that hung crooked in its opening. Above the entrance, there was a worn down wooden sign that said ‘Sunset Park Orphanage’.

Scrambling to find his cellphone, Steve knew this might be it. Sam’s number was on speed dial and the other picked up almost immediately.

“Stevie? What’s up?”

“Sam, do you have that copy of Bucky’s file that I gave you?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it right here. Why?”

“I need you to look something up for me. The orphanages Bucky’s been in.”

He could hear some papers rustling and some curses on the other side of the line before finally, Sam’s voice sounded again.

“He’s only been in one, a few times over the years. Sunset Park Orphanage on Fifth Avenue. Isn’t that where – ?”

Steve didn’t allow Sam to finish his sentence, as he mumbled a quick thank you and then disconnected. He was already halfway through the door when he tucked his phone back into the inside pocket of his jacket.

The floorboards creaked and moaned underneath his careful steps. This building had to be at least a century old and not very well-preserved. By the look of it, it’d been abandoned for quite some time now. In a corner of what used to be the hallway, Steve saw a limbless doll, covered in rag and dust. The perfect place to record a horror movie, he thought to himself.

“Bucky?” he tried softly, not sure if it was a good idea to call out to him.

He didn’t want to scare Bucky away and he had no idea how to make it clear he wasn’t there to hurt him. His eyes scanned the large space. There was a door on either side of the hall and a large staircase in the middle. Quite a few steps were missing or had broken right in the middle, leaving it nearly impossible to climb the stairs. Steve figured Bucky had to be somewhere on ground level.

“Bucky? It’s me, Sergeant Steve Rogers. I’m not here to hurt you, I promise.”

No reply. Steve sighed as the feeling he’d been wrong crept up on him. Perhaps it’d been too good to be true. He pushed it away and decided to take a good look around. The dining room and kitchen were in no better state than the hall. He could even hear mice or rats scurry around on the wooden floor. Barely any light fell in through the filthy windows and a constant rain of dust make it hard for him to breathe. This wasn’t a place one would like to stay for more than just a few minutes.

Reaching the hallway again, Steve mumbled a few curses underneath his breath. No sign of Bucky anywhere. Maybe that body really had been Bucky after all and he was just clinging onto a sense of false hope. Steve’s head fell back into his neck and he closed his eyes.

“Please don’t be dead, Buck. Just – don’t actually be that stupid,” he murmured before turning on his heels to head out again.

He’d only taken two steps or so when he heard something creak behind him. In a reflex, Steve pulled his gun from its holster at his side and aimed it at whatever had cause the sound. Completely baffled, he watched someone crawl out of a little closet underneath the stairwell, coughing and sneezing from the dust. The other climbed up with difficulty, gripping at his ribs as he held onto the railing of the stairs for support.

“Bucky?” Steve breathed softly as the young man raised his head.

“Please don’t – don’t shoot,” a hesitant voice begged.

Quickly, Steve holstered his gun again and took a few steps towards the other. He wanted to leap forward and hug Bucky for not being dead but the sight of the other man stopped him. He looked like a beaten puppy, his shoulders slumped and his eyes cast down to the ground. It was only when he came closer that he noticed the bruises.

They were everywhere: his face, neck, arms and God knew what else were covered with large, purple bruises and cuts. Steve noticed some dried blood on Bucky’s lips and in his hairline. Steve’s stomach turned, his mouth opening to say something but all words were lost.

Carefully, Steve stepped forward until he was as close to Bucky as he dared to go. He gently reached out to touch Bucky’s face, but he winced and stumbled back. Steve hesitated for a moment, his hand still hovering in the space between them.

“I won’t hurt you, Bucky. I promise.”

He reached out to the other again, this time breaking through Bucky’s resistance. His fingertips gently caressed past a rare place of unbruised skin. Bucky’s gaze was glued to him, leaning into the touch just a bit. Tears welled into the older man’s eyes as he bit down on his lower lip until Steve noticed a drop of blood.

“Let me help you. Please,” Steve whispered, his voice shaking as he rested his hand on Bucky’s cheek.

For a second, there was no reaction until the other slowly nodded, letting out a soft sigh and closing his eyes.

“Okay.”


	8. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky didn’t want to leave. He’d done that three times before and every time, his foster family had sent him back. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done his best to be a good kid, but for some reason, he always got himself in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on updating today because my exams are being a pain in the ass but a certain friend of mine couldn't stop nagging at my head about it. So here ya go c:

_January 21, 2007_

The orphanage was closing. Bucky stood there for a moment, a numbing fear taking over. He’d been eavesdropping on the head of the institute, as he always did when he was bored, and overheard the man talking to the main investor. It seemed the latter one was stopping his financial support.

Bucky didn’t want to leave. He’d done that three times before and every time, his foster family had sent him back. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done his best to be a good kid, but for some reason, he always got himself in trouble.

The first time, at the Robertsons, it’d been an accident. About seven weeks after arriving at the elderly couple’s house, he’d almost set the house on fire when mister Robertson asked him to put some wood in the stove. The police figured it wasn’t a good idea to leave a twelve year-old kid with two people of over eighty. So he’d been sent back to Sunset Park.

He’d already been fifteen when a second family took him home, the Winters. Their eight year-old daughter was adopted and they had been looking to adopt a boy as well. Bucky had been thrilled. Maybe he’d finally find a family he could stay with. Unfortunately, after six months, he’d gotten caught smoking weed behind the school’s main building with some friends and off he went again.

Only about a year ago, a third and last family had decided to take him in. Christine Grant had been a single mom and Bucky had genuinely cared for her. However, two weeks after welcoming him into her home, she’d tripped and fallen down the stairs. She’d been dead the moment she cracked her skull open on the floor. The images of finding her still haunted Bucky in his sleep.

Now, they were taking the orphanage away from him as well. Admitted, he was almost eighteen now and he wouldn’t be staying there for much longer, but the thought of having to be on his own scared him to death. He’d hoped to make a deal with the director, so that he could keep living in the orphanage if he worked there. That plan was ruined now.

Bucky had been so in shock that he hadn’t heard footsteps approach the heavy wooden door or seen the handle go down as the door was opened. He stumbled back when a man suddenly towered over him. Tripping over his own feet, he fell onto the ground, placing his hands just in time to support him. He now stared up at an older man in an expensive suit that stared back at him with a frown.

“I – I’m sorry,” Bucky mumbled hastily, already crawling up and patting the dust off his trousers, “I didn’t mean to – “

“Were you eavesdropping on us, boy?” the director asked, clearly not pleased with finding one of his boys listening in on his conversation.

The other man in the fancy suit raised his hand, waving it a bit as he kept his gaze fixed on Bucky.

“Don’t be too harsh on him, old friend. He’s curious, nothing shameful about that.”

Bucky dropped his head and stared at the tiled floor, not sure if he was allowed to leave or not. The stranger stepped a bit closer to him, trying to make eye contact.

“What’s your name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes, sir, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

“And how old are you, Bucky?”

“Seventeen, sir. I’ll be eighteen in March.”

A short silence fell, but Bucky didn’t dare to look up. He knew punishments could be severe, he’d experienced it first-hand. Not that the orphanage was a bad place to be. They treated their children well, with love, but they cared for discipline too. They couldn’t afford having a few idiots stumbling off the straight and narrow.

“Well, Bucky. My name is Alexander Pierce and I think we’re going to be good friends.”

During the next few weeks, Pierce visited the orphanage almost every day. He came for just one person. Bucky couldn’t be more excited. Pierce showed him the city, gave him tickets to a concert and even pushed a bit of money into his hands once in a while.

By the time it was his birthday, Bucky had started seeing Pierce as a father-figure. He was older and wiser than him and he genuinely seemed to care about his well-being. So on the tenth of March, Bucky woke up with a smile on his lips.

Only two hours later, one of the nurses called for him, saying he had a visitor. Racing down the stairs, Bucky recognized Pierce in the hallway. In his hands, he kept a small box with a big bow on it. This year, it seemed, there would be a birthday gift for him.

“There’s the birthday boy!” Pierce laughed at Bucky’s enthusiasm.

Skidding to a halt, Bucky glanced at the man, who was just a bit smaller than him. Pierce held out the box to him.

“Open it. I hope you’ll like it.”

With trembling fingers, Bucky ripped the paper off the box and opened it. Inside he found a beautiful Rolex watch that weighed heavy in his hand. With an open mouth and eyes big in surprise, he looked back at the man before him.

“Thank you. This – this is amazing. I love it!”

Pierce smiled contently, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I have another surprise for you. How would you think about coming home with me today? You’re eighteen now, you’re too old for the orphanage, but too young to stand on your own two feet. I can provide for you until you’re old and wise enough to head into the world by yourself.”

The offer needed to sink in for a moment and Bucky just stared from the watch to Pierce and back. It was as if suddenly, the universe had turned and now favoured him. He had a chance at happiness. It’d be stupid not to grab it.

“Yes! Yes, of course. I have no idea how I can ever thank you for this,” Bucky replied, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ah, don’t worry. We’ll figure something out, Buck.”


	9. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You aren’t the kind of person to kill people, Steve. We’ll make them pay, the lawful way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post another chapter because, once again, the nagging friend and today I finally got the first part of Winter Soldier: The Bitter March so I'm pretty stoked c:  
> There might be a few mistakes here and there because I didn't have much time to read it over a second time.

Steve had taken his precautions to ensure as little people as possible found out about Bucky still being alive. As long as he didn’t know what exactly he was dealing with, he preferred not to spread the news too far. It might just endanger both of them.

So instead of giving him a ride on the back of his motorcycle, Steve had called Sam. He had a car, making it easier to transport Bucky without anyone recognizing him. Then they had to find a place where they could keep an eye on Bucky without raising suspicion. Eventually, he and Sam hadn’t been able to think of a better place than Steve’s flat. After all, Steve knew the neighbourhood like his back pocket, he knew all the people there and just going home wouldn’t be as strange as sneaking through Brooklyn to visit Bucky in some safehouse.

Once at the small but cosy apartment, Steve had sent Sam out to buy a few extra locks. It wouldn’t stop whoever came at them if they really wanted to get in, but it’d give them a few extra minutes if necessary.

As the piercing sound of a drill filled the flat, Steve’s eyes stayed glued to the seemingly small figure on the couch. When they’d arrived, he’d made Bucky some coffee and a sandwich. The poor guy hadn’t eaten in two days. After that, he’d just sat down on the couch, mindlessly staring out in front of him, his thoughts clearly on another planet.

“I swear to God, if I find the bastard that turned him into this… this – shadow of himself, I will kill him with my bare hands,” Steve mumbled, leaning against the wall while Sam was placing the locks.

His friend glanced at him for a moment and shook his head.

“You aren’t the kind of person to kill people, Steve. We’ll make them pay, the lawful way.”

Steve sighed. He knew Sam was right; he didn’t have it in him to take a life, but by God, he wanted to so badly. It was unfair to see such a handsome, bright young man sitting there, bruised and broken. Gently, he rubbed the bridge of his nose before leaning his head back.

“We need to find a few people we can trust to look after him when I’m not around. I can’t just disappear from work for God knows how long.”

Groaning at himself, Sam dropped his hands by his sides. By the look on his face, Steve could tell things weren’t going as he’d planned with the locks. After a frustrated sigh, he turned his head to look at Steve.

“Natasha?” he suggested immediately.

Steve nodded. If there was one person who’d be prepared to colour outside of the lines, it was Natasha. Especially if it possibly meant bringing down something big. Biting the inside of his cheek, he scanned the entire bureau in mind to find another trustworthy figure.

“Rumlow?”

With a deep frown on his face, Steve shook his head. For some reason, he’d always had an uncomfortable feeling around Brock Rumlow. The man was a good cop, there was no denying that, but Steve had a nose for finding insincere people. Brock was one of them.

“I’d say Sharon. She’s a good girl, a capable cop. And she can keep an eye and an ear out at the station for us.”

After an approving nod of Sam, the drill sounded once again. Steve could see Bucky wince on the couch and he decided that perhaps it was a good idea to sit with him for a bit.

As he approached Bucky, Steve made sure the other had noticed so he wouldn’t be spooked. Gently, he sank down onto the couch, a bit further away from the other man than he really wanted to. There was no reaction from Bucky’s side, only that void look in his eyes.

Steve hesitated, unsure if any physical contact was wanted but he felt like there was no other way to break through Bucky’s apathetic state. Carefully, he reached out to the hand that laid on the other’s left leg. When his fingertips only grazed the back of it, Bucky’s head shot up. Suddenly, the emotionless stare had made room for a fear that raised the hair on Steve’s arms and he quickly retracted his hand.

Bucky seemed to be ashamed of his reaction and he slumped even further into the blanket. Steve sighed, moving just a few inches closer.

“Bucky,” he whispered, “You’ll be safe here. I’ll make sure of that, I promise.”

The other shifted for a second, staying silent as Steve could see the blanket move there where Bucky’s fingers gripped onto it.

“Thank you.”

It was the first time since they’d left the orphanage that Bucky’s voice sounded and it brought a wave of relief over Steve for some reason. Slowly, the other man’s head turned towards him again. Steve smiled a comforting, gentle smile but his gaze soon lowered again when he noticed Bucky’s hand had moved towards him and now laid with its palm facing up. He hesitated, keeping the previous reaction in mind, but eventually did reach out again. As soon as their hands met, Bucky’s fingers curled around Steve’s, locking them tightly together.

“The things – the things they did to me…”

Bucky’s words caught in his throat and he gasped for air. Facing away from Steve again so he wouldn’t see, tears welled in his eyes. Steve noticed anyway. In an impulse, he reached forward and closed Bucky into his arms so gently it seemed as if the poor man was a porcelain doll. Perhaps that was exactly what he was.

To Steve’s surprise, Bucky didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into the embrace. Steve could feel him shiver like a scared dog in his arms. Instinctively he tightened his grip and began stroking up and down Bucky’s spine in a soothing motion. It took only a few seconds before Bucky’s arms slipped around his waist and he buried his face in the fabric of Steve’s uniform. Muffled sobs escaped him, causing Bucky’s body to shake every single time.

“Hey, hush. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.”

Steve repeated the words over and over again, like a comforting mantra that would ease Bucky’s mind. It didn’t. He just kept crying, letting out a groan every once in a while.

Meanwhile, Sam had finished attaching the locks, but didn’t dare to interrupt so he’d thrown a quick wave at Steve as a sign he was leaving before closing the apartment door behind him. Now, there was only silence and Bucky’s crying left to echo through the flat.

The night had already fallen when the sobbing began to decrease and Bucky sat up again. His eyes were red and swollen, his lips dry and his face pale. He looked miserable in his entirety.

“I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, pushing a few strands of his dark brown locks away from his face.

Steve shook his head at that, reaching out for the other’s hand again.

“It’s perfectly alright. I don’t mind, I really don’t. Don’t feel ashamed about crying, okay? I can only imagine how horrible the things were you went through. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Bucky shrugged, averting his eyes and disappearing into the blanket like he had done before. He was already drawing back into himself again.

“How about a shower, hm? You can freshen up, I’ll give you some of my clothes to wear and I bet you’ll feel better already after that.”

When a reply remained absent, Steve rose from the couch and held out his hand to Bucky. It took the other a few moments to place his hand in Steve’s but in the end, they walked down the small hallway and into the bathroom together. Once there, Steve explained where everything was and how everything worked before giving Bucky some privacy. Searching through his closet for something that would fit him, Steve could hear the water start running.

About an hour later, the soft buzzing of water running was still audible. Steve had been clawing at the arm rest of the couch for about twenty minutes now, suppressing the urge to barge into the bathroom. His gut feeling told him something was going wrong. Eventually, pushing away the last objections, he jumped up and made his way to the bathroom door.

“Bucky?” he asked softly, knocking the door two short times, “Everything okay in there?”

There was no reply, so he called out again, a bit louder this time. Still, no sound but the shower running. Steve’s hand slipped down to the handle of the door and pushed it. The door was locked and he couldn’t remember doing that. Now, he was growing worried.

“Bucky!? Open the door! Come on, let me in! Bucky!”

Steve was banging the door now, desperately trying to open it even though he knew better. He couldn’t hear anything on the other side of the door except for the shower: no moving around, no voice. He stumbled back, took a sharp breath and slammed his shoulder into the thin wooden door. It gave just a bit, but not enough. He stepped back again, repeating his attack. This time, the wood broke around the lock and the door swung open, causing Steve to almost trip and fall.

The bathroom was filled with steam and an uncomfortable heat. Steve’s eyes searched the small room, meeting the closed door of the shower. The water was still running. Behind the fogged up glass, he could see a silhouette crouched down on the shower floor. Carefully, he stepped closer, calling out Bucky’s name. No response.

Slowly, Steve opened the glass door. An even greater wave of heat washed over him and he had trouble breathing. The water coming out of the shower head was nearly boiling and it had coloured Bucky’s skin an unhealthy shade of red. He could see a few snow white scars cover the bright red skin but that wasn’t what drew his attention. What really turned Steve’s stomach, were the trails of blood the water washed down the drain. At first, he couldn’t determine where the blood was coming from. It was just everywhere: on his face, his arms, his chest, his legs.

Before kneeling down, Steve turned off the water, leaving a painful silence in the small bathroom. He reached out for Bucky, his palms turned upwards as a sign he wasn’t going to hurt him. The other didn’t move. He just sat there, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs.

“What happened?” Steve asked softly, worrying that perhaps he’d slipped and hit his head.

“I feel so… filthy.”

The sound of Bucky’s voice broke Steve’s heart. All this time, Steve had prayed to God there was one thing the poor guy had been spared of. He hoped that it were just beatings, just bullying. Every suspicion of something else had been pushed into the back of his mind, refusing to think of the possibility. There was no denying it now.

“You’re not, Bucky. You’re not filthy,” Steve whispered as tears blurred his sight and he sat there, kneeled on the edge of the shower floor as water soaked his trousers.

“I – I tried to scratch it away.”

Bucky hesitantly stretched out his arms. His entire lower arms, all way from the inside of his elbow to his wrist, had been scratched open. The wounds looked ragged and painful, the pink flesh underneath still bleeding.

“Oh God,” Steve whispered under his breath, realizing he’d found the source of the blood.

In silence, Steve crawled further into the shower, not caring about getting his clothes wet. He leaned back against the cold, tiled wall before reaching out for Bucky. Once again, the other man hesitated but accepted the embrace. Wet locks of brown hair stuck to Steve’s neck and face as Bucky buried his face into his chest and wrapped himself around him.

“I swear to you, right here and right now, on my own life, that I will make every man or woman that ever laid a hand on you pay. I will make them suffer like they made you suffer. I won’t rest before every single one of them is dead or behind bars.”


	10. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll be home by five. Meanwhile, Sam will come over to check up on you. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter at the special request of Darkness_Angels. Enjoy :3

The days in Steve’s flat seemed to pass by at an incredibly slow pace. Nothing really happened, except for the nightmares. In the three days he’d been under the protection of Sergeant Rogers and his friends, Bucky had barely gotten twelve hours of sleep. Staying awake seemed a fat better option than closing his eyes and experiencing everything all over again.

There wasn’t much talking either, even though he was never alone. Steve kept a close eye on him since his little stunt in the shower but he felt too ashamed to open his mouth and force out coherent sentences. After all, the only subject they could talk about was what happened to him and to be honest, Bucky would rather avoid that.

So he filled his days with mindlessly watching television, eating the food Steve cooked him and keeping away from all sharp objects. Apparently, Steve had taken a few days off work for him, as he was always somewhere around, silently watching him. Unlike before, Bucky didn’t feel uncomfortable under Steve’s gaze, though. He knew he only tried to protect him, not control him.

It was the first day Steve went back to work when the situation changed. It was seven in the morning and as usual, Bucky was sitting on the couch, his knees pulled up against his chest and his eyes focused on the commercial playing on the tv screen. His fingers tugged at the edges of the bandages Steve had applied around his lower arms. The scratches were healing, causing an insufferable itch to torment him. In the distance, he’d picked up on the sound of the shower running after some stumbling in the hallway, indicating Steve had woken up.

Suddenly, Bucky’s attention was ripped away from the tv when Steve’s voice echoed through the living room.

“Hey, Bucky, have you seen my uniform shirt? I can’t find it anywhere.”

Bucky’s head popped up at the words, catching sight of Steve standing in the door opening that led to the small hallway. An instant blush covered his cheeks when he noticed Steve was only wearing his uniform pants, that were still unzipped, and no shirt. His perfectly toned muscles were clearly visible in the dim morning light. He was surprised those big arms could embrace as gently as they had done before.

Quickly, Bucky glanced down again, not understanding why his breathing suddenly felt so heavy.

“Uh, no. Haven’t seen it,” he replied softly, disappearing deeper into the fleece blanket he had wrapped around him.

Bucky had known he was into boys for ten years now, since he was fifteen. It had also been his first experience with a wet dream, making things all the more confusing. He remembered dreaming about his best friend back then, a boy who’d been a year older than him and had taken Bucky under his wing at the orphanage. Every image of that dream was still clear as day to him. They were running around through the fenced garden behind the orphanage, playing silly games and teasing the girls. Eventually, they’d hidden behind a bush in the back of the garden, panting and laughing at the screams of the girls. Bucky had been laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, when his friend had come hovering over him and placed his hands on either side of Bucky’s head. He’d then leaned down to kiss him, pressing his entire body against Bucky’s and moving their hips together. Bucky had woken up in a panic. He’d never told anyone and his friend had been adopted only a few weeks later.

His first actual experience with his sexual feelings hadn’t been until his eighteenth, however. He’s suppressed it for two years, trying to ignore it and write it off as hormonal bullshit. Until he’d met Daniel, Dan for short. He was one of Pierce’s drug dealers who was living in the same apartment building as where Pierce had given Bucky a flat. They got along great, quickly becoming the best of friends. Dan was openly gay but it’d never bothered Bucky. Quite the opposite. He loved accompanying him to bars and challenge each other to find a hook-up for the other. Still, every time he’d watched Dan leave with some other man on his arm, Bucky had felt a little pang of jealousy.

One night, both drunk beyond belief, Dan began teasing him. It started off with silly remarks and jabs but it ended in a full-on fight in which at one point, Bucky had blurted it all out.

“You always take off with some stranger who just wants to put his dick in your ass for the night and I hate it! You never stop to think that perhaps, maybe, I want to be the person that’s touching and kissing and making love to you!”

The words still sounded in Bucky’s ears when he thought of that night, together with the sweet nothings Dan had whispered into his ear when he had taught Bucky how it felt to love another man. They’d been happy for a while. Because of Dan, Bucky had learned to accept his feelings and had realized they were perfectly okay.

Until, of course, Dan had been shot. He’d been dealing in a part of town he shouldn’t have been, caught by cops who shouldn’t have known where to find him. Bucky had always suspected Pierce of setting it all up. The funeral had been simple and the church empty. Just Bucky, Dan’s parents and a wooden coffin with red roses on top of it.

Back in the present, Bucky found it hard to focus. His gaze constantly drew to still half-naked Steve running through the apartment in an attempt to find his shirt. The way the muscles moved underneath his slightly tanned skin made Bucky bite his lip to suppress a smile. It’d been a long time since he’d seen such a handsome man shirtless. Most of his clients were middle-aged men who’d let themselves go after marriage.

“Found it!” Steve announced with a laugh, pulling his shirt from behind a closet door and slipping it on quickly.

As his fingers buttoned it up, Bucky couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. No matter the things that had been done to him, he could still appreciate human beauty and he’d love to appreciate Steve’s for a bit longer.

Noticing his collar was slightly folded, Bucky rose in an impulse, walked over to Steve and straightened it out with skilful fingers. Steve seemed to freeze under his touch, looking at him in confusion with those beautiful blue eyes. Bucky smiled as he stepped back.

“I can’t stand the sight of a wardrobe malfunction,” he tried to joke with a short smirk.

Steve smiled as well, placing a gentle hand in the back of Bucky’s neck.

“I’ll be home by five. Meanwhile, Sam will come over to check up on you. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Bucky nodded, trying to ignore how goosebumps grew on his arms. After a last, comforting smile, Steve attached his duty belt to his waist and took off. Bucky was left standing in between the living room and the kitchen, staring at the front door. He’d always thought Steve to be a handsome man, ever since they’d first met. He’d always been attracted to him, but this was an entirely new experience. Well, not entirely new. He’d felt this way once before, about six years ago, when the object of his affection had been Dan.


	11. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just go in there, hand over the package, accept the money and bring it back to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post another chapter as I've had a surge of inspiration the past few days.  
> This isn't one of my happiest chapters. I feel so sorry for what I'm putting Bucky through. Poor man :c

_December, 2008_

An ice cold breeze blew right through Bucky’s leather jacket as he stared down at the simple headstone at Green-Wood Cemetery. There were barely any visitors who dared to come out here at this hour and in this weather. On the tv, they’d warned for heavy snow storms and recommended everyone to stay inside. Bucky had ignored the advice. He came here every day, he wasn’t going to skip a day because of some bad weather.

He shifted in his jacket before rubbing away a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. It was exactly six months since Dan had been killed and he still dreamed about the other man every single night. Most of the time, he relived his nineteenth birthday. Dan had taken him to Coney Island and a show on Broadway in the evening. They’d acted like smitten teenagers all day. They’d been so happy. Barely three months later, Bucky had watched Dan’s coffin being buried right there where he was standing.

“Once I join you up there, you owe me an explanation for this ridiculous being-dead-game you’re playing,” Bucky mumbled in between a few new tears.

After pressing his hand against the cold stone for a second, Bucky turned on his heels and made his way to the exit again. He was already walking down the street, hands tucked deep into his jacket and his eyes cast down to the ground when he noticed a car slow down right beside him. Glancing up with a frown, the back window rolled down.

“Bucky!”

Alexander Pierce’s voice made Bucky cringe for a moment. Since Dan’s death, they’d been growing apart. Probably because Bucky suspected Pierce of setting Dan up to get killed. He’d never been very accepting about their relationship but had never really explained why. Perhaps he didn’t like his ‘son’ to be with a drug dealer, perhaps he just didn’t want him to be gay. Most likely, it was something entirely else.

Bucky stopped in his tracks, turning to face the older man.

“Get in! It’s no weather to go by foot!”

Sighing, Bucky nodded. Not that he had another choice. Pierce’s word was law. Not only to him but also to the enormous crime syndicate he ran. It hadn’t taken Bucky long to figure out where Pierce got his money from, but he’d turned a blind eye. The man was good to him, he helped him survive.

As he settled down, Bucky’s bright blue eyes rested on the always impeccably dressed man. He was humming along to a tune that played softly on the car radio as they drove down the almost abandoned streets of Brooklyn. There was a silence in the car that felt uncomfortable to Bucky. Something was going on.

“Where are we going?” Bucky questioned when he noticed they weren’t heading towards his apartment building.

“I need to drop something off somewhere. It’ll only take a minute,” Pierce replied, shooting him a comforting smile.

Bucky shuffled on the leather car seat, cleared his throat and glanced out of the window. They were entering a poorer neighbourhood. Most of the people they passed were junkies. In the almost two years he’d been involved in Pierce’s life, he’d grown skilled at recognizing users.

Eventually, the car stopped in front of a house at the end of a street. Nothing happened, so Bucky turned to look at Pierce again in curiosity.

“Do you remember saying you wanted to pay me back one day?” the other man asked, raising his eyebrows.

Bucky nodded. Of course he remembered. He was still planning to keep that promise. After all, he couldn’t just accept everything Pierce had given him without repaying him in one way or another.

Pierce smiled lightly, nodding in approval before taking a little package from underneath the seat. Bucky recognized it as drugs, a lot of them. Most likely cocaine or heroin.

“Just go in there, hand over the package, accept the money and bring it back to me.”

“You want me to deal for you?”

It wasn’t really that much of a surprise, to be honest. Bucky had expected he’d end up being once of Pierce’s minions one day. Not waiting for an answer, Bucky took the drugs and got out. It couldn’t be that difficult. Dan had told him a bit about it, so he knew what to expect.

Immediately after ringing the doorbell, the front door of the house was opened. Stepping inside, Bucky smelled the strong scent of weed and he pulled up his nose. In what was supposed to be the living room, he noticed a seemingly wealthy man sitting on the couch. When the stranger noticed Bucky, he jumped up.

“Ah, my delivery!” he exclaimed, clearly pleased.

Without saying a word, Bucky approached the man and handed him the drugs but the other didn’t seem to be planning to hand over any money. Bucky held his hand open.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to pay for that, sir,” Bucky insisted.

The man laughed, dropping the package on the couch.

“I’m only paying for what I’ve ordered, son.”

Bucky frowned, not understanding what was going on. It wasn’t until the stranger began unzipping his pants that the realization came.

“Hey, no! This is a mistake! I’m not – “

“You’re not Bucky?”

“That – that’s me, yeah, but – “

“Then get on your knees and start sucking.”

Bucky’s heart raced, the only sound in his head that of his blood rushing through his ears. He had to get out of there. Figuring out what had gone wrong was for afterwards.

Unfortunately, the man who had let him in was still present, clearly to make sure the client got what he paid for. With a swift kick in the back of Bucky’s knees, he was forced down. A strong hand gripped in his brown locks, keeping his head in position. Bucky tried to pull away but the stranger had a surprising amount of strength. He closed his eyes and kept his lips pressed together.

The stranger knew what he was doing. Even when Bucky refused to open his mouth after a few slaps, he found a way. He pinched Bucky’s nose closed, cutting of all oxygen. In a reflex, Bucky gasped for air for just a second. It was long enough for the man to force himself inside Bucky’s mouth, making him gag. He felt like he was choking as the man thrusted, hitting the back of his throat almost every single time. Tears streamed down Bucky’s cheeks as he whined around his attacker’s length.

For a moment, Bucky considered biting. It was as if the man could read his thoughts, because he leaned down and whispered in Bucky’s ear: “Bite me and I swear I will fuck you twice as hard in the ass.”

Bucky sobbed and didn’t move a muscle, waiting for it to be over. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, the man moaned loudly and Bucky tasted the salty taste of sperm on his tongue. He was finally released, crawling back as soon as he could and tried to spit out as much as he could. He was shaking and crying as he gasped for air, not able to get himself to stand.

He only looked up again when money started raining down on him. The stranger towered out over him with a smug smile on his lips, dropping a few dollar notes around him.

“It was nice meeting you, Bucky. Hopefully we’ll see each other again.”

Off he went, leaving Bucky on the ground with his handler standing in the corner to watch him. Bucky’s stomach turned and he gagged. He felt so filthy, so violated and he realized it wouldn’t be the last time. He realized this was the way Pierce had chosen for him to pay everything back. There was no escaping. He would never be safe again.

As the thoughts rushed to him one by one, Bucky couldn’t keep it in any longer. He closed his eyes and puked.


	12. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Talk to him, Steve. Try to get at least something out of him. The longer we’re not doing anything, the more chance they’ll discover he’s alive and come after him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My exam today went really well so I decided to treat you all on a new chapter. The next one might follow tomorrow already if I feel like it. c:

As soon as Steve walked into the police station, Sharon gestured at him. Frowning, he walked up to her desk, leaning onto it as he glanced at her through the bulletproof glass.

“Natasha wants to talk to you. About the nest,” the blonde said softly, making sure nobody was listening.

Steve nodded in understanding. The nest was their codename for the organization Bucky had been in, little bird being code for Bucky himself. It’d been Sam’s bright idea to use the terms and even though Steve had rolled his eyes at the stupidity of it, they’d all accepted it. After all, they couldn’t just go around talking about Bucky and their little off the record investigation in the open.

After shooting Sharon a last faint smile, Steve made his way up the stairs. He dropped his jacket and bag at his desk, greeted a few colleagues and went through to Natasha’s office in the back. He knocked at the door once, being called in not half a second later.

His redheaded boss was sitting behind her desk, her eyes scanning a file in front of her and a frown growing on her face. She lifted her head as Steve entered, quickly motioning he could sit down.

“How is he?” she asked without bothering about formalities.

“The wounds on his arms are healing and he seems to be opening up, if just a bit.”

“Any information?”

“No. He needs more time, I need to gain his full trust first. He’s been through a lot.”

Natasha nodded curtly, pursing her lips. She wasn’t pleased with the fact Bucky hadn’t let go of any information that could lead them to whoever had abused him. By now, they all realized it had to be big and bad, but there wasn’t anything specific known yet. It was frustrating everyone, not in the least bit Steve himself. He wanted to kick the asses of the people who’d hurt Bucky as soon as possible.

“Talk to him, Steve. Try to get at least something out of him. The longer we’re not doing anything, the more chance they’ll discover he’s alive and come after him.”

Steve knew she was right, but he didn’t feel much for interrogating Bucky. He was still too unstable for that. It would only lead to more breakdowns like a few days before.

With a mind full of worries, Steve left the office again. He wanted to turn to Sam, ask if they could get a coffee at the vending machines in the hallway, but he realized his best friend was at his flat right at that moment.

Sighing, Steve sank down on his chair, pulled a file from the pile on his left and opened it. He needed to get some work done.

Eventually, it took him over two hours to work his way through one file. This wasn’t going anywhere and Steve knew that. There was no way he could focus on work in this situation. Closing the brown folder with a growl, he leaned back in his chair. The urge to call Sam and ask how things were going back at home grew with every passing second. However, he refrained from actually picking up the horn and dialling his friend’s number. He would not turn into an overly worried mother-hen.

Thank God he was saved from his own worries when one of his colleagues approached his desk, asking if Steve could take over patrolling for a few hours while the other man tended to a family emergency. Steve quickly agreed, grabbed his uniform jacket from the back of his chair and made his way down to the underground garage to join the man’s partner.

Brock Rumlow stared at Steve with a frown when he walked out of the elevator.

“What did you do to my partner, Rogers?” he asked, only half-joking.

“Family emergency. We’ll be stuck together this afternoon, Rumlow,” Steve replied smirking, earning a pat on his shoulder from the other man.

They quickly got in the car, driving out of the parking lot and onto the road. Steve didn’t know where they were heading today, but apparently Brock did. Staring out of the window, Steve mindlessly sat through the patrol. Every attempt at conversation fell silent after a few minutes.

Until, suddenly…

“You okay, man? Is it that Barnes guy? I heard he jumped.”

Immediately, Steve’s attention pricked up. He could feel that small tug in the pit of stomach he always felt when his instinct kicked in. Glancing at Brock from the corners of his eyes, Steve shrugged.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I just feel sorry for the guy, you know? He never had an easy life.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Orphan, drugs, prostitution. No wonder he wanted to get out of this hellhole.”

Steve frowned for a split second. For as far as he knew, Bucky had never been arrested for prostitution. He wondered why and how Rumlow knew that. An uncomfortable feeling that a man he had considered somewhat of a friend might be in on whatever was going on. Even worse, Steve felt like he was being interrogated.

Thankfully, the radio crackled and a female voice announced someone had called in a case of domestic violence going on right at that moment, only a few blocks from where they were. Now distracted by the emergency they were heading to, Brock didn’t ask any other questions. Still, Steve didn’t feel quite as comfortable in the car as he had before. On the other side, if Brock was in on it, there might be a possibility of extracting information from him instead of forcing Bucky to spit out whatever he could tell them and sink even deeper into a depression.

They arrived back at the station about three hours later. After a polite goodbye, Steve made his way up to the second floor. There, he noticed Natasha was absent and he had to stay alone in his suspicions for a while longer. Frustrated, he sank onto his chair. He couldn’t keep this up any longer.

He hesitated for a few minutes, shifting on his chair uncontrollably before jumping up again. He collected his stuff and walked out, mumbling something about making up for the hours later to a colleague as he passed by in the hallway.

Once outside, Steve dug into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out his phone. Natasha’s number was on speed dial. After a second or two, she answered.

“Yes, Steve?”

“I need you to come to my flat tonight, after work. Bring Sharon. We need to talk about something. I might have a lead.”


	13. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky turned to face him. There was a determination to him that Steve had never seen before. It was as if he’d fought his way up from the dark and had now set his mind on turning things around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post another chapter. Enjoy ^^

It was almost eleven and the night had thrown a pitch black blanket over Brooklyn. Not that it mattered. The many street lights, neon signs and other artificial kinds of lighting made it seem as if it was still day in the city. Steve had closed the curtains to shut most of the light out.

In the two small sofas sat Natasha, Sharon and Sam, sipping from their beers and glancing down at brown folders that were spread out on their laps. Bucky was in the guest room, probably not asleep. Steve was sitting on the ground, his back against the sofa, in between Sam and Natasha.

“So you really suspect Rumlow of being corrupt?” Sharon asked with a sigh, glancing at Steve with raised eyebrows.

Steve knew the suggestion was ridiculous, certainly because the man had been involved in numerous successful cases. If he really was on the payroll of some gangster, he’d be mentioned in cases that had gone wrong or hadn’t led to anything.

Natasha glared up as well, her expression equally as judging as Sharon’s.

“Yes! He was basically interrogating me in that patrol car and he mentioned Bucky being involved in prostitution. I know Bucky’s file by heart, he was never a suspect or a witness in a prostitution case.”

The frustration is Steve’s voice was audible. It seemed like they didn’t want to believe it was possible a seemingly good cop was crooked, even though they’d all seen numerous cases in which that had been the truth.

“First of all, was Bucky even somehow involved in prostitution? Perhaps Rumlow was just summing up some basic offenses we’ve seen in people that fit Bucky’s criminal profile.”

Steve pursed his lips at Natasha’s words, taking in a sharp breath. Just when he was about to answer, a soft voice did that for him.

“Yes, I was.”

All four heads pricked up at the sound, glancing at the door opening that led to the hallway. Bucky stood there, wearing one of Steve’s sweatpants and shirts, which were far too big for him. He’d pulled his hands into the sleeves before wrapping his arms tightly around himself. His bright blue eyes focused on the group around the coffee table, awkwardly hopping from one leg to another.

Steve quickly jumped up, walking up to Bucky with a worried look to his eyes.

“Bucky, you don’t have to do this. You – “

Bucky turned to face him. There was a determination to him that Steve had never seen before. It was as if he’d fought his way up from the dark and had now set his mind on turning things around.

“I have to do this, Steve. You’re all trying to help me. It’s time I help you.”

Steve placed a gentle hand on Bucky’s shoulder and nodded, much against his will but realizing there was no arguing at that point. They walked back to the couches, where Bucky sat down next to Sam.

“What do you want to know?” he asked softly after clearing his throat.

They all hesitated for a moment before Sam picked a picture of Rumlow off the coffee table and showed it to Bucky.

“Do you recognize this man? Have you ever seen him outside the police station?”

Steve could see Bucky’s muscles tense up and his cheeks pale as his gaze dropped to the photo. Slowly, he nodded, licking his lips and opening them in an attempt to say something. It took him a few seconds before he finally found his voice.

“He’s one of the Boss’ right hand men. He does all the nasty things that need trust and efficiency. He – “

The words caught in his throat. Steve reached out to Bucky, placing his hand on the man’s arm and giving it a little squeeze. He could see how tears welled in Bucky’s eyes as he tried to go on.

“After that raid at the crackhouse, where I saw you,” Bucky began, glancing at Steve for a split second before looking down again, “The Boss thought I’d been the snitch that had told the police the address. So he punished me. He – he told four of his best men that they could have their way with me for an entire night. This man – he was the worst of them.”

Bucky threw the picture onto the coffee table again, shivering under Steve’s touch. Everyone stayed silent for a moment, trying to comprehend what Bucky had just told them. Meanwhile, Bucky’s hand moved to find Steve’s, his fingers clenching around it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re saying you were… gang-raped?” Sharon dared to ask eventually, breaking the silence.

Bucky nodded hesitantly, avoiding looking anyone in the eyes.

“Was that the only time you were sexually assaulted?”

As usual, Natasha was the most pragmatic of the four of them, focusing more on the goal than the means. Not that Steve blamed her for that. Bucky was opening up, they needed this information. Steve glanced up at Bucky in worry, hoping they weren’t pushing him towards a dangerous edge.

“No,” Bucky replied eventually, “I was forced to sleep with several associates of the Boss in exchange for favors or money. There was no refusing. These men… they liked things rougher than usual so fighting back only pleased them even more.”

If Steve had thought Bucky couldn’t squeeze his hand even tighter, he was thoroughly mistaken. He could feel his fingers protest under the pressure but letting go was not an option. Instead, he sat himself down on the armrest of the couch and placed an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. The other man looked up at him for a moment as he leaned into the touch.

“How long has this been going on?” Sam asked now, the shock visible on his face.

“I had my first client when I was nineteen, almost twenty years old. At first, it was only one or two men a month. Then at least one a week. Right before I faked my suicide, I was servicing three a week, at least.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam mumbled under his breath as he leaned back in the couch, running a hand over his face.

Sharon had gone even paler than she usually was and even Natasha seemed to be taken back by it all. Still, she was he first to speak up once again.

“You keep mentioned a Boss figure. Who is he? Do you have a name or any indication to who he can be? Have you ever seen him in person?”

Bucky nodded, a wry smile at his lips as he glanced up at the redhead again.

“Of course I’ve seen him in person. He was my beneficiary, the man I considered my father. He took me in after I aged out of foster care, took care of me, loved me.”

A mirthless chuckle escaped Bucky’s lips as they all stared at him in curiosity.

“His name?” Natasha insisted.

“Pierce. Alexander Pierce.”

“The former senator? Member of the World Security Council? That Alexander Pierce?”

Sharon blurted it out in complete disbelief, stumbling over her own words and staring at Bucky with wide eyes, who only nodded softly.

“Well, shit.” 


	14. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s fine, Buck,” Steve’s voice answered from the dark, followed by a soft sigh. “I can’t sleep either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little comfort chapter for my lovely friend, because she needs it. 
> 
> [And the first Stucky chapter as well. Can't wait to write more fluff c:]

There was a pain in Bucky’s chest that he just couldn’t get rid of. No matter how he tossed or turned, the clenching feeling around his heart never faded. So he laid there, staring up at the ceiling. The soft moonlight that fell through the little gap between the curtains cut a single white line through the darkness around him.

Slowly, Bucky lifted his hand so that the light fell onto it. His middle and index finger now looked paler than ever while his thumb was still but a silhouette in the dark. He sighed before dropping his hand again.

Not knowing what else to do, Bucky slipped out of the bed without turning on the lights. After grabbing his sweatpants and shirt from the ground and putting them on, he carefully opened the door of Steve’s guest room. For once, the door didn’t creak, allowing him to sneak out without waking up Steve, whose room was just across the small hallway. The door to the other’s bedroom was open but it was too dark to look inside.

On his tiptoes, Bucky snuck to the living room, walking through the door backwards to close it.

“You don’t have to be so quiet,” a voice suddenly said and Bucky turned around in shock.

His heart was pounding behind his ribs, almost like it tried to escape his chest, as he pressed his back against the cold door. On the other side of the room, standing in front of the large windows that led onto a small balcony, stood Steve. His hands were loosely in the pockets of his jeans and his back turned to Bucky.

“I – I didn’t…” Bucky stammered, unsure if he was meant to flee into his room again or get closer.

“It’s fine, Buck,” Steve’s voice answered from the dark, followed by a soft sigh. “I can’t sleep either.”

It were those words that made Bucky tear away from the door and walk up to the windows as well. Standing next to Steve, he peered out over the city before them. He could see cars drive up and down the street, people walking home from their nights out. The laugh of a young girl sounded. Bucky watched her lean into the embrace of her lover in the street below.

“Have you ever been in love, Steve?”

Bucky blurted out the words, not fully realizing what he was saying. As soon as he finished his sentence, he felt like hitting himself in the face but decided against it. Instead, he didn’t move a muscle as he awaited Steve’s reply.

“No. I don’t think so,” Steve muttered after a few seconds of awkward silence, not looking at Bucky at all.

“Why not?”

“Never had the time, I guess. After my dad died, my mom and I were alone. I was a sickly kid, constantly absent from school. I grew out of it but by the time that happened, my mom got sick and I had to take care of her for a change. She died not much later and since then, I’ve been working to pay for food and a home. Relationships just never fitted into my schedule.”

Bucky couldn’t help but notice the bitterness in Steve’s voice and he glanced up at the taller man. He looked sad in the pale streetlight.

“What about you?”

Steve turned his head towards Bucky, causing him to quickly glance down again. He shrugged, not really feeling like giving an answer. Then again, that’d be unfair.

“Yeah. Once. Before things turned to shit,” he said, taking in a sharp breath, “H – his name was Dan. A good kid in a bad place. We were happy, for a while. Then he died.”

Bucky’s voice wavered for a moment and a shiver rolled down his spine. He felt small all of a sudden. So meaningless and useless in this world. There wasn’t anything he could offer anyone, to be honest. He was just another pretty face with a hollow soul. No wonder Pierce hadn’t seen anything more than a sex toy in him.

He was pulled from his self-pity when two strong arms wrapped around his shaking shoulders. It was only then that Bucky realized tears were streaming down his cheeks. His face met the soft, warm skin of Steve’s chest as the other pulled him closer and fingers soothingly travelled through his messy brown locks. The rhythmic beating of Steve’s heart resounded in his ears, having a surprisingly calming effect.

“You’ll love again, Bucky. I’m sure of it. By then, all bad things will have disappeared and you’ll be able to build a life for yourself and the person you love. I’ll personally make sure of that.”

It was so strange but Bucky believed him. He’d never thought he’d be able to have hope again, to believe comforting words, but he did. It was so easy to have faith in Steve. He had this natural charm that would make anyone trust him with their life.

Slowly, Bucky lifted his head to glance up at Steve. The pale streetlight still lit up his face but it had a completely different tone, it seemed. It didn’t make the other look sad anymore, it turned him into a beacon of light in the middle of a pitch black room. Bucky smiled, a faint smile but still clearly present on his face. For the first time, his eyes smiled along.

“Could I sleep with you tonight?” he asked hesitantly, “I don’t feel like being alone.”

Steve smiled as well, nodding lightly. They made their way back into the hallway and through the door to Steve’s bedroom. Luckily, he had a double bed, so they didn’t have to squeeze together. Not that Bucky would’ve complained if that’d been the case. As he laid down, he could hear Steve let out a long, deep sigh.

Suddenly, a hand was stretched out to him. For a moment, Bucky was confused, until Steve’s hand slipped around his shoulders and pulled him close. He laid his head against Steve’s broad shoulder, placing one hand on the other’s chest. He could feel it rise and drop with every breath. It’d been a long time since he’d been this close to another man in a bed and had felt completely comfortable.

“Try to get some sleep,” Steve murmured, “It’s going to be one hell of a ride from here on.”

Bucky smiled, closing his eyes as he let a breath escape from his nose.

“Thank you, Steve.”


	15. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Steve joked with a chuckle to his voice, raising his eyebrows a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /peeps up from a corner of civilization/  
> I haven't updated in far too long, I'm well-aware of that. I'm sorry. Exams have kinda drained my inspiration.  
> But fear not, there's still far too much about to happen to Steve and Bucky for me not to continue writing.

The shrill beeping of an alarm clock pierced the darkness around Steve. With a groan, he shifted on the mattress. His movements were restricted by a weight on his chest. At first, he didn’t realize what it was, until he opened his eyes and noticed a dark mop of hair laying on top of him. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, while his hand pushed back a few strands to reveal Bucky’s face.

The other man winced at the touch, opening his eyes. Two bright blue irises glanced up at him.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Steve joked with a chuckle to his voice, raising his eyebrows a bit.

Bucky’s cheeks grew a soft pink color before he crawled up. He yawned softly, shaking his head like a puppy shaking off the sleep. His hair was all over the place but strangely enough, it suited him. Steve lay there, supporting himself on his elbows as he glared up at Bucky. He could only think just how amazing the other looked in the morning light, still half asleep.

In an impulse Steve didn’t know the origin of, he reached out to Bucky’s face. Just as his fingertips brushed the other man’s stubbled cheek, he winced and backed away. The touch had taken him by surprise. Steve should’ve known better.

“I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he quickly blurted out, lowering his gaze and cursing himself in mind.

There was no reply, just a silence that made things even more uncomfortable. Until fingers gently closed around Steve’s hand and pulled it up again. Completely confused, Steve looked up at Bucky.

“Don’t be sorry. It was nice,” the other said softly as he placed Steve’s hand on his cheek.

For a moment, there was another silence but this time it was different. They just sat there, staring at each other while Steve’s thumb hesitantly caressed Bucky’s cheek. It was a peaceful moment and for just a second or two, the outside world didn’t seem to exist. Then, Steve pulled away and it was all over.

“It’s been years since someone touched me without the intent to inflict pain,” Bucky mumbled, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“And nobody will ever touch you that way again,” Steve was quick to say, taking in a sharp breath.

“You can’t promise me that. You can’t possibly know that. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Steve reached out again, now with both hands, to cup Bucky’s face and force him to look up. With a sigh, he shook his head.

“I will keep this promise, Bucky. Even if it’s the last thing I do, nobody is ever going to hurt you again.”

Steve could see tears well in Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes while the other stared up at him. There was such gratitude, such trust in his eyes that it frightened Steve. If he failed him, he would never be forgiven. Hell, he’d never forgive himself.

Suddenly, without any warning, a pair of warm lips was pressed against his. Bucky’s hands gripped around his wrists, pulling him in close. Steve froze, unsure what he was supposed to do now. He’d only kissed one other person in his life. Her name had been Gloria and they’d been seven. It was safe to say he really didn’t have a clue how these things worked. Not to mention the fact this was not how he’d imagined it. He was supposed to kiss a beautiful young woman, marry her and start a family. He wasn’t supposed to be kissing a former male prostitute and he definitely wasn’t supposed to like it the way he did.

The doorbell rang, making Bucky pull back. They sat there for a split second, avoiding each other’s gaze and trying to figure out what had happened. Then, Steve realized there was still someone at the door, waiting for it to be opened. He slipped off the bed, ran a hand through his messy hair and hurried down the hallway towards the front door of the flat.

Sam stared at him for a second, a frown clear on his face before he wormed his way into the flat. Steve hesitated, his mind still with the kiss rather than with Sam. However, he pushed it all off for a later moment, forcing himself to focus.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, confused.

“Dude, you asked me to drop by some clothes for Bucky before work. And I’ve got news. Natasha called.”

Now Steve’s attention was drawn. He followed his best friend into the living room. There, Sam dropped a bag of clothes on the couch before turning to face him. Steve looked at him with a questioning glance, raising eyebrows as the other stayed silent.

“She talked to Fury,” Sam announced.

“The district attorney? Why?”

“Face it, bud, we need help on this one. Fury can provide that. And he will. He agreed to take the case to trial if we gather enough evidence against Pierce.”

Steve stood there, a few seconds long. His mind tried to comprehend what this meant. If they had the support of a man as influential as Nicholas Fury, they might get somewhere with their little investigation. However, it’d still be quite a job to get Pierce convicted. They would need solid evidence; something not even the stupidest person in Brooklyn could look past.

“Alright. Good,” he breathed eventually, dropping his hands to his sides and slipping his fingers into the pockets of his pants.

“Which means everything needs to go by the book from now on. We can’t afford losing on grounds of a stupid mistake.”

“I always do everything by the book, Sam.”

With a slightly raised eyebrow, the man looked up at Steve. They exchanged a few glares before cracking a smile. To change the subject, Steve bowed over the bag of clothes Sam had brought with him. Pulling out a shirt, he nodded lightly.

“These should fit, yeah,” he mumbled more to himself than to his friend.

“How is he now?”

A sigh escaped Steve’s lips as he turned to face Sam again. He licked his lips, trying to find the words. Suddenly, the events of barely ten minutes before played in his mind again. He still didn’t have a clue what to make of it all.

“He’s good, I guess. As good as you can expect in his situation.”

Just a second, everything stayed silent. Then, Sam nodded with a sigh, said he had to get going and left the way he’d come in. Steve stood there, fingers fiddling with the fabric of a shirt that smelled like cigarettes and thrift shop. The mess only grew with every day that passed.


	16. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t get how you can always see good in everyone,” Bucky mumbled, forcing a smile to his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long to update again. New chapters should come quicker from now on ^^

He’d fucked up. For the umpteenth time, he’d ruined everything good he had. Bucky lay there, staring up at the grey ceiling above him. The thoughts that played through his mind nearly drove him insane. He shouldn’t have kissed Steve. Now he had proven just how much of a whore he was. Frustrated with his own stupidity, he buried his face in a pillow and screamed.

The smell of Steve’s shampoo filled his nose, causing his fingers to dig into the soft pillow even deeper. Salty tears created a wet spot underneath his face. Somehow, he always managed to make all the wrong decisions.

In the distance, he could hear the muffled voices of Steve and Sam. Bucky couldn’t bring himself to stand up and join them. He’d have to face Steve if he did that, and worse, Sam. Perhaps he already knew of what had happened. He’d definitely judge him for it. He couldn’t bear the disgust in their eyes.

Growling lowly, he punched the pillow and sat up, gasping for air as hot tears still seemed to carve into his cheek. He rolled his eyes up and blinked rapidly in an attempt to fight them. It was useless.

“Pathetic,” he mumbled at himself, clenching his fists.

He could feel the muscles in his arms tighten as his nails dug into the flesh of his palms. The stinging pain that travelled up to his shoulders grounded him. It was a punishment. Breathing out heavily, Bucky closed his eyes to shut out the world.

He could hear the front door of the flat close again. Sam had left, but still no sign of Steve. Not that it surprised him, to be honest. He could understand that Steve didn’t want to face him at that moment. It would be far too uncomfortable.

Eventually, after minutes of hesitating, Bucky finally collected the courage to get out of bed. His glance fell on the large mirror against the wall. For a moment, he looked at his own reflection; at his pale skin, the pink glow on his cheeks, his bright blue eyes, his slightly swollen lips, his broad shoulders, and his messy hair. He’d seen that image so many times. He’d watched himself cry in the bathroom mirror more times than he cared to remember.

He tore his gaze away, wrapping his arms tightly around his own chest in an attempt to stop the shivering. That empty feeling crept up on him again and an ice cold hand gripped at his heart. He was still alone. The thought he had found a friend in Steve had been just an illusion. He would never escape the useless life he was living.

The realization hit him so hard he had to support himself against the wall, his lungs heaving for air. The tears that had just stopped appeared again, blurring his sight. Numbed by his own thoughts, his legs carried Bucky to the window across the room. The city down below was awakening. Without realizing it, his shaking hands had opened the window. A cold breeze brought goosebumps to his arms and played with a few strands of his hair. He breathed it in, the cold stinging inside his chest. Before he knew it, he was sitting with his legs out of the window, staring out into the distance.

“Bucky, I’m gonna – “

Steve’s voice made Bucky wince, his hands clenching around the edge of the window. He didn’t move, didn’t look back. He just kept staring out over Brooklyn.

“Buck, what are you doing?”

He could hear the fear in Steve’s voice. It shook just a bit when he called out Bucky’s name. However, he still didn’t move a muscle. Behind him, a few careful footsteps sounded as Steve approached him.

“Bucky, don’t do this. Please don’t.”

Steve was begging now, yet Bucky just sat there. He was aware of Steve’s desperation but he simply couldn’t get himself to move.

“I’ve ruined everything nice I’ve ever had,” he muttered after a few seconds of silence.

Steve breathed out heavily behind him, only a few steps away from him anymore but too scared to reach out any further.

“That’s not true. You’re doing great. Things are getting better.”

“Are they? You’re the first real friend I’ve had in years and I fuck up by getting carried away, by doing shit I shouldn’t do.”

“Is this about that kiss earlier? Bucky, I – “

“Don’t bother, Steve. I know when a kiss is unwanted.”

Bucky had been so focused on his own shame and the thought everything could be over in a matter of seconds, that he hadn’t noticed Steve had taken the last few steps towards him. Two strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back, away from the window. Steve stumbled and fell, landing them both on the bedroom carpet. Bucky freed himself from Steve’s embrace, ready to lock himself in a room and not come out for days, but Steve quickly grabbed his wrist to hold him back.

“You’re wrong,” Steve whispered softly, a hint of hesitance to his voice, “That kiss was not unwanted. It was just… unexpected.”

Bucky didn’t find the courage to look up at the other, his blue eyes remaining focused on the ground, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape this conversation. Perhaps this was what he’d feared most: actually having to talk about his feelings instead of just acting on them.

“Don’t lie to me. I know guys like you don’t fall for guys like me. People like you fall in love with people who are equally as beautiful and kind, not tainted and useless creatures like me. I don’t deserve to be cherished by a good man like yourself.”

“Stop it. Right now,” Steve breathed as he pulled Bucky closer, his free hand cupping his stubbly cheek, “You think of yourself as filthy and worthless but you couldn’t be further from the truth. For over five years, these men used you and abused you for their own pleasure. They did unspeakable things to you, of which you will carry the scars for the rest of your life. It doesn’t make you tainted or useless. It makes you the strongest man I have ever met. You survived, Bucky. Every single time, you climbed back up and went on. You kept going, because you knew one day, things would get better. And things are getting better. You’re out of their grip, you’re safe here and soon, they’ll be punished for what they did. What happens after that, is all up to you. You can build your own future from now on and I hope that I’m in it, to be quite honest. Something about you draws me in, time after time. There’s so much more than tragedy behind those gorgeous blue eyes of yours. You have the potential to be a great man. It’s time you and the people around you allow that potential to come out.”

By the time Steve had finished, Bucky was staring up at him with teary eyes while trembling hands tugged at the fabric of the man’s shirt. It was unbelievable how much faith this man had in him. Even after everything, he still refused to see the worst in him. He took in a shaky breath, casting down his glance again.

“I don’t get how you can always see good in everyone,” Bucky mumbled, forcing a smile to his face.

“It’s a gift,” Steve replied with a shrug.

As Bucky looked up again, he was met by a comforting smile. Gently, Steve’s thumb caressed over his cheek. It was a soothing gesture, one Bucky could definitely appreciate. It was incredibly simple but it filled him with a warm feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

“I try my best. Come on, let’s close that window before we freeze to death and get some breakfast. I feel like making pancakes. You like pancakes?”

“Love ‘em.”


	17. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Steve Rogers. Nobody has ever taken care of me like you have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the conclusion that I totally suck. :/ I promised to update quicker but I haven't been able to because of writer's block, school work and my parents insisting to spend a few days at the sea.

Steve was a complete failure in the kitchen, that was for sure. However, making pancakes was one thing he could actually manage and rather well, too. Sam was addicted to them and it seemed now Bucky had joined him. The other man had already eaten five of them, still demanding more. Steve smiled down at him while he prepared two more. Once they were ready, he put one on either of their plates before sinking down on his chair again.

“They’re really great,” Bucky muttered with a full mouth, the corners of his lips turning up in a little smile.

Everything seemed so normal, even though both knew Steve had stopped Bucky from doing what the world believed he’d already done barely half an hour earlier. Neither of them wanted to remember it, they were already trying to erase it from their memory. Especially Steve. Never before had he felt that much fear as the moment he’d noticed Bucky sitting in the window. It had been like an icy fist that clenched around his entire being, leaving him barely able to breathe.

Ignoring the memories, he looked down at his own plate. All of a sudden, he wasn’t hungry anymore. He gently pushed the plate out in front of him with a sigh, causing Bucky to look up from his food. He swallowed the bite he was chewing on and asked: “Are you okay?”

Steve turned his head to face Bucky, forced a smile to his lips and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m great. Just a bit tired. Things have been heavy the past few days.”

“I’m sorry.”

He realized his mistake the moment he heard Bucky apologize. Of course his words made the other think it was all his fault. He had to be careful with how he expressed himself around him. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on top of Bucky’s and squeezed it just a bit.

“It’s not your fault. I want to do this, I want to catch the bastard who hurt you. I made the choice to help you and I’m sticking to it.”

Bucky glanced up at the touch, pursing his lips before returning the squeeze. Steve could see the guilt on the other’s face and he wished he could somehow wipe it away, but as long as Bucky had this little self-esteem, he would keep seeing himself as the cause of all evil.

“Maybe, but you wouldn’t have had to make that choice if you’d never met me.”

“I also wouldn’t have felt what I’m feeling right now. You’re not a bad thing in my life, Buck.”

There was no response, but Steve could tell Bucky was having a hard time accepting he wasn’t to blame. He stopped eating as well, his gaze directed at his plate. 

“I’m glad you kept getting arrested on purpose until I noticed something was off. I’m sorry it took me longer than I should have. I never would’ve forgiven myself if something had happened to you before I could help you.”

Bucky lifted his head again, his lips already parted to say something. Something Steve could predict, so he shook his head and stopped him before he could utter a word.

“Don’t. You’re worth saving, Bucky. And I’ll keep repeating it until it sinks into that silly head of yours.”

For a moment, Bucky seemed uncertain if he should reply, but he decided against it. Instead, Steve watched his cheeks grow pink just slightly and a little grin tug at his lips. This was a breakthrough and it pleased Steve more than he dared to admit. After a last, short squeeze, he let go of the other man’s hand and rose to his feet to clear the table.

“Sam dropped off a bag of new clothes for you, so you don’t have to keep wearing my sweatpants and shirts. It’s in the living room.”

Bucky stood up too, immediately reaching for his own plate to help a hand. Not that Steve accepted it. He jokingly glared at the other and shook his head, as a sign he didn’t have to help him with the dishes. 

“But I like wearing your clothes. They smell like you. It’s nice,” Bucky blurted out softly, slipping his hands into his pockets now that he wasn’t allowed to do anything.

Steve couldn’t help but feel flattered and he shot the other a sweet smile.

“I get that, but you’ll need to look decent. The district attorney will want to see you in his office soon and you have to make a good impression. Right now, your testimony is the only thing we have against Pierce,” Steve explained, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel as he turned on his heels to face Bucky.

The other man nodded, taking in a sharp breath and pursing his lips into a smile. Steve carefully took Bucky’s hand and dragged him along to the living room. The bag of clothes was already waiting for them. Whistling a soft tune, Steve began searching through it.

“These’ll look really good on you. Come on, try them on,” he said with a chuckle to his voice, as he held up a pair of grey trousers and a dark blue shirt.

Bucky seemed to hesitate but did take the clothes after a few seconds. His bright blue eyes flicked up to meet Steve’s for just a split second. This hesitation worried Steve. It almost seemed like there was something he wasn’t allowed to see. That same, ice cold fear rose again. Had they done even more to him than he’d already said?

Slowly, Bucky pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his slightly tanned chest. Steve could see his muscles ripple underneath the skin. His stomach turned as he realized the other probably had kept in shape so that he’d make even more money for Pierce. However, there were small imperfections scattered across Bucky’s skin, scars that needed no explanation. 

“Jesus,” Steve mumbled as his eyes travelled Bucky’s bare chest.

“My back’s even worse,” Bucky muttered under his breath, avoiding to look Steve in the eyes.

He turned around, showing Steve the long, painful scars drawn over almost the entire length of his back. Steve stepped forward without really noticing and his fingertips hesitantly traced along the lighter lines on Bucky’s skin. The other shivered and sighed.

“There was one… client,” Bucky started, his voice trembling, “He liked bloodplay. One night, he kept scratching me while he fucked me for hours. It hurt like hell, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I threw him off. He hit his head against the nightstand and got a cut. As a punishment, Pierce had his right hand, Rumlow or whatever you called him, put salt in the wounds and ordered everyone not to clean them until he said so. When they scarred, he blamed it on me as well, so I got a beating on top of it all.”

Rage was building in the pit of Steve’s stomach. Time after time, there were stories like this that went to show just how much of a monster Pierce was. Still, it wouldn’t be enough to get him convicted. It was all so unfair.

Gently, Steve’s arms locked around Bucky’s waist and he placed his chin on the man’s shoulder, pulling his back against his own chest. 

“I will try anything and everything to make Pierce pay for this, Bucky, even if it’s the last thing I do. One way or another, he will be punished for what he did to you all these years. I don’t care if I have to break a thousand laws to do that, but I swear: he will suffer.”

He could feel Bucky tremble inside his embrace and he pulled him even closer, holding him tightly. Very slowly, the other turned around so that he could look up at him. Those beautiful eyes were filled with tears, but they were accompanied by a faint smile.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Steve Rogers. Nobody has ever taken care of me like you have.”

Steve smiled while his fingers softly caressed Bucky’s jawline. The warmth of the other’s body radiated through his shirt. It was comforting. It felt like right at that moment, nothing could hurt either of them anymore. If only they could just disappear into each other, get away from all the misery that surrounded them.

Leaning his forehead against Bucky’s, Steve breathed out deeply. Ever so gently, he brought his lips to meet the other’s and locked them in a tender kiss. In the back of his mind, there was a whole lot wrong with kissing Bucky but in his heart, it felt right. Steve had always been the kind of man to choose heart over his brain. This was the twenty-first century, this was New York City. He shouldn’t feel bad about kissing another man and he wouldn’t.

Bucky eagerly answered the kiss, lifting his head to reach Steve’s lips. His fingers took hold of Steve’s shirt, bringing himself as close as he could get. As Steve pulled away, a small laugh escaped his lips.

“Let’s remember this as our first kiss, shall we?” Steve joked, earning a nod from Bucky.

“Yeah. Much better story to tell our kids when we’re old. More romantic.”

“Whoa, not that fast, Barnes. We just had our first kiss and you’re already starting about kids. Everything in its proper time, okay?”

They laughed. Both of them genuinely laughed, in a way that made it seem nothing was wrong at all. And for a moment, they both believed that was the truth.


	18. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had to keep smiling, for her sake. If he wasn’t strong, she could never be strong either. His bright blue eyes rested on her pale, bony face as he forced to keep the corners of his lips turned up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept my sincerest apologies for being a butt in the form of this extra chapter c:  
> This time, I'll really try to update quicker.

_August 27, 2009_

It was almost like a sauna in the small apartment in the center of Brooklyn, even with the windows wide open and a ventilator turning at full speed. Steve gently wiped the drops of sweat off his upper lip, trying not to think of how badly he had to smell with this amount of sweat soaking his shirt.

“Stevie?”

A weak, trembling voice called out to him, immediately drawing his attention. Steve rose from his chair, leaving his homework for what it was as he hurried into the only bedroom the apartment had. His mother was laying on the bed, the sheets pushed off to the end and pillows supporting the woman’s thin body.

The sight still turned Steve’s stomach, no matter how many times he’d seen it before. The last couple of his months, his mother had lost a scary amount of weight. He was not a strong man and even he could easily lift her into a bathtub. That wasn’t even the worst. Since she was bedridden, her already weak skin was covered in bedsores that left bloody stains on the white sheets. He spotted a few new ones that she tried to cover up as he approached the bed.

“What is it, mom? What do you need?” he asked, sitting down on the edge and smiling up at the woman before him.

He had to keep smiling, for her sake. If he wasn’t strong, she could never be strong either. His bright blue eyes rested on her pale, bony face as he forced to keep the corners of his lips turned up.

“I just wanted to see your face, son,” she replied, reaching out for his hand.

He softly took her fingers in his, caressing the back of the skinny hand with his thumb. He would give so much to make her healthy again. He would sacrifice his own life, if need be. If only he could take away that damned cancer in her chest, then everything would be okay again.

As he looked at her, he noticed sweat dripping down her temples and he sighed.

“Why don’t you take that bonnet off, mom? You’re going to get a heatstroke like this.”

The woman shook her head with difficulty, glancing down for a moment before bringing her eyes back up to meet Steve’s.

“I don’t want you to see it.”

“It’s fine. I love you, no matter what. It really doesn’t matter to me.”

She sighed again but gave in. Lifting her hand, she pulled off the wool bonnet a friend of hers had made to cover up her bald head. Steve could tell it was an immediate relief, now that some fresh air could get to her skin. He smiled again as he leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head.

“There you go,” he said softly, “Isn’t that better? Besides, I think you look good without hair. You could definitely make it a new fashion trend.”

She laughed, but it didn’t last long. She was coughing and gasping for air within seconds. Steve jumped up, got a glass of cool water from the kitchen and returned. As he put it to his mother’s lips, she eagerly took a few steps.

“Oh, Steve,” she whispered while he put the glass on her nightstand, “I couldn’t have wished for a better son.”

“And I couldn’t have wished for a better mother,” he replied firmly, raising his eyebrows as he went to hold her hand again.

“That’s not true. I’ve burdened you with my illness for three years now. You should be going out with friends, enjoying your life before it’s over. Instead, you’re stuck taking care of your sick mother.”

“I’ve burdened you with my sickness for thirteen years. You were stuck inside the house taking care of me all the time, while you could’ve gone out with friends too. I’m only trying to repay a debt I can never fully repay. You gave me life, you cared for me. Now let me care for you.”

She smiled, a genuinely happy smile as she closed her eyes. A deep breath escaped her lips while her head sunk down on a pillow again.

“I’m so tired,” she mumbled.

“Then rest. I’ll check up on you when dinner’s ready.”

With a last sweet kiss to her forehead, Steve stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him. He quickly finished his homework before making dinner. It wasn’t much, just a few cooked potatoes, spam and some lettuce. It was all they could afford with the scarce money Steve made outside school.

He filled two plates, put them on a tray and took them to his mother’s bedroom. Ever since she was locked to her bed, Steve had made a habit of eating his meals there, to keep her some company.

“Mom, dinner’s ready,” he announced as he walked in, earning no response.

Gently putting the tray down on the nightstand, he sat down on the edge of the bed again, assuming she was asleep. He gently shook her shoulder.

“Mom, wake up. You need to eat.”

Again, no response came. A sudden, ice cold fear crashed down on Steve and he gasped for air as his heart drummed against his ribs. He began shaking her a bit harder, calling out to her over and over again. She didn’t wake up. Trembling from head to toe, he reached out to her wrist and pressed his fingers against it. No pulse.

“Mom!” he screamed, tears forming in his eyes as he kept shaking her lifeless body.

For a moment, he wanted to call an ambulance but decided against it. The costs would be far too high without insurance and in the back of his mind, he already knew it wouldn’t help. Sobbing violently, he pulled his mother’s body in his lap, holding her close to his chest as he gasped for air.

He had been so scared this day would come. He had prayed that it would be a long time before it actually happened, but at the same time he wished for her to be relieved from her pain and misery. So he sat there, gently rocking with his mother’s dead body in his arms, hot tears dripping down his cheeks. He didn’t know what else to do. He had nowhere to go, nobody to rely on. They hadn’t had any family, their friends had stopped calling a long time ago. His father had died when he was still a kid. He had nobody in the whole wide world. Steve Rogers was all alone now.


	19. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Steve Rogers,” Fury said with a deep voice, already stretching out his hand towards Steve, “You’re the idiot who wants to take on Alexander Pierce.”

The DA’s office was soaring with activity. Young women hurried up and down the hallway with arms full of files, copying machines beeped and buzzed somewhere in the distance and prosecutors made hasty phonecalls before rushing off to court.

Steve let out a lengthy sigh as his head fell back against the cold wall behind him, staring up at the grey ceiling. Fury was making them wait, as usual. Even though the man had a tendency to annoy people, he was the best ally they could choose. He was ruthless; once on a case, he didn’t let go before he had the desired result. Not to mention the fact a lot of people owed him a favour, so his network in and around New York was extremely valuable.

Glancing beside him, he noticed Sam getting irritated as well. Their eyes met and Steve nodded, as a sign the other wasn’t alone in his frustrations. Next to Sam was Sharon, who was going over the last details with Natasha. If it wasn’t for them, they’d never have gotten this far already.

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around Steve’s, making him turn his head to look at the man on his other side. Bucky looked incredibly nervous and his grip was nearly breaking Steve’s fingers.

“That’s him, right?” he mumbled, looking at the man that was coming straight at them.

Nicholas Fury was an intimidating figure, which often helped his case. He was tall, bald and had an eyepatch over his left eye, making him look like a proper Bond villain. Fortunately, he was on the good side of the law, but he did like to use the fact he looked dangerous to get what he wanted. Steve was certain he enjoyed scaring little kids in his spare time, if he even had that kind of thing. Men like Fury rarely spent time on anything that wasn’t work.

“Steve Rogers,” he said with a deep voice, already stretching out his hand towards Steve, “You’re the idiot who wants to take on Alexander Pierce.”

Steve nodded as he gave the man’s hand a firm shake. Natasha had warned him that there would be insults and sarcasm.

“Yes, sir. Someone has to make that bastard pay for what he’s done. Nobody’s invincible.”

For a moment, Fury glanced at him with his one eye, clearly deciding whether or not it was a good idea to possibly ruin his career on this insane investigation. He then grinned as a small twinkle appeared in his dark brown eye.

“Come on in. We have a lot to discuss.”

Steve let out a little sigh of relief once the man had turned his back to unlock the door to a conference room. Apparently he’d given the right answer. A little spark of hope ignited in his chest, even though he knew they still had a long way to go. They still needed to find hard evidence to prove everything Bucky said. Pierce’s lawyers would tear him apart as long as they didn’t find witnesses or evidence. After all, to the eyes of the court, Bucky was nothing more than a petty criminal.

Once inside the office, they all sat down on the chairs that had been provided for them around a large oval table. Up until then, Fury had ignored the rest of the group. Now, his eyes scanned them all, eventually resting on Bucky, who’d sat down right next to Steve.

“You must be James, the informant.”

Bucky nodded, even though it wasn’t really a question. Steve was sure Fury already knew exactly who Bucky was, what he did and where he came from.

“You do realize you’re not the most credible witness, right? Your criminal record is a mile long, you’ve done about everything except murder and your story sounds more like that of a dumped boyfriend out on revenge as long as there’s no real evidence.”

“I do, sir, but everything I said is true. I know Pierce is an important and influential citizen of this country but behind that façade of wealth and honour is a monster that enjoys inflicting pain and only cares about getting more money than he already has. He doesn’t care about the people he kills by selling them bad heroin, he doesn’t care about the young men he destroys by selling them to the highest bidder and he certainly doesn’t care about the law. He needs to be stopped and I will do anything to make that happen.”

Steve couldn’t help but stare at Bucky. Never had he heard the other man talk like that before, I was almost as if he was a different person. He sounded so determined and strong. A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips, feeling proud of the man beside him. Slowly, his hand went to meet Bucky’s under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You sound very brave now, but this will be one hell of a ride. Pierce’s overpriced lawyers will try anything and everything to discredit you, in and outside of the court room. They will bring out every dirty detail about you, attack you like hungry wolves and use everything you say against you. This might just be the most horrible time of your life. Are you sure you’re up for that? I don’t want to start this whole circus just to see you quit in the middle of it all. If we do this, we’re going to do this right and we’re going to finish it. Am I clear?”

Just a split second long, Steve could see hesitation on Bucky’s face. His heart dropped and his breath caught in his throat, his grip around the other’s hand tightening just a bit.

“Crystal, sir. I’m in, until the end.”

Fury nodded slowly before directing his eyes at Natasha. He seemed satisfied with Bucky’s answers, at least for now. The rest of the meeting was just a rundown of what was already in the file, until Fury cleared his throat and glanced around the table.

“From now on, everything goes by the book. If Pierce’s lawyers can find the smallest mistake, the tiniest little piece of evidence that isn’t legal, we will lose. Unfortunately, this also means the asshole will find out about the investigation. He’ll also find out you’re still alive.”

Now, all attention was back to Bucky, who glanced up with wide eyes. Perhaps the thought Pierce would find out he wasn’t actually dead hadn’t crossed his mind yet, but now it did, Steve could tell it scared him.

“H-he can’t. He’ll kill me if he finds out I’m alive and talking to the police,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Then Natasha will make sure there’s a patrol car outside the apartment building at all times.”

“That won’t help. He has a lot of cops in his pocket; they’ll turn a blind eye.”

Steve sighed and leaned forward, seeking eye contact with Fury.

“Bucky’s right. We can only rely on people we know and trust, and they’re scarce. Basically, everyone I trust is around this table. We’ve been protecting Bucky for weeks now, we can keep doing that.”

For a moment, Fury leaned back in his chair, observing the people sat around the table. Eventually, he nodded, breathing out a sigh as he leaned back forward.

“Alright then. You’re now officially charged with the protection of James Buchanan Barnes, our key witness. Better not screw this up.”

Only a few minutes later, the meeting was over and they were sent on their way. As they made their way out of the building, Steve noticed a slight tremble in Bucky. It worried him. This meeting had done more bad than good, so it seemed. He just hoped traffic wouldn’t be a pain in the ass and they’d be home soon. At least there, everyone felt comfortable.

Walking up to Natasha’s car at the side of the road, Bucky froze mid-step and grabbed for Steve’s hand. It immediately alarmed him and he turned on his heels to ask Bucky what had startled him. He was just staring, his lips slightly parted and his face pale as a sheet.

“Buck, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Steve asked, half in a panic.

“Pierce,” the other whispered, his glance shooting up at Steve’s face, “His car just drove by. He knows, Steve. He’ll come for me, for you. For all of us.”


	20. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll fix this, Buck. I promise.”

Bucky just couldn’t fall asleep. He had been tossing and turning in his bed for hours, alternating between kicking off the sheets and wrapping himself up like a burrito. His mind was one big mess that he couldn’t silence. Every time it seemed like he was finally slipping away, Pierce’s face would pop up before his mind’s eye again, leaving him fighting a panic attack.

He knew he’d feel safer if he snuck to Steve’s room and asked to sleep with him, but he didn’t want to wake the other up. He could already hear a soft snoring come from across the hall. So he just turned on his other side again, buried himself between the two pillows and closed his eyes again. In a desperate attempt to chase away the thoughts that haunted him, he pushed his mind to relive the nice moments he’d had the past couple of weeks.

Eventually, he did slip into an uneasy sleep, his body too tired to allow his mind to keep him up. His dreams were confusing, made up of flashes of memories he thought he’d buried a long time ago. Memories of Dan and their time together, when he had been marginally happy. Then, in barely a second, there were flashes of his clients. He could taste the fabric of the sheets on his tongue again, as he bit down on them in order not the scream. He could hear their voices groan and moan. Meanwhile, Pierce’s voice whispered through it all, telling him nobody would ever find his body if he talked about what was going on.

By the time he woke up, Bucky was lying in a puddle of sweaty sheets, heaving for air as his heart beat against his ribs. Trembling from head to toe, he slipped out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom, where he quickly got rid of his t-shirt. His hands shook so badly he was barely even able to turn on the tap and splash some cold water in his face. As he tried to calm down his breathing, he leaned on the edges of the bathroom sink and closed his eyes.

“Buck, is that you? Are you okay?”

Bucky had been so shaken up that he hadn’t heard Steve approach the bathroom door. He hesitated for a moment, tempted to say he was just fine. Then again, he was done lying and hiding, especially from Steve.

“No,” he replied softly, scared his voice would crack if he spoke any louder.

Barely a second later, Steve stood next to him, his hand resting gently on his shoulder. Bucky could feel the worry radiating off the other, but he was too scared to look up. Perhaps his mind would play yet another trick on him and put Pierce’s face on Steve’s shoulders.

“What happened?”

“Nightmare,” Bucky whispered, still glancing down at the white porcelain of the sink, watching the water swirling down the drain.

“You can spend the rest of the night in my bed. I’ll keep you safe,” Steve replied, running his fingers through the little sweaty strands of hair in Bucky’s neck.

Bucky smirked just a bit, without a single trace of actual amusement.

“You can’t protect me from what’s in my head, Steve.”

“Watch me. Now, come on. You need to get some rest.”

Not looking for a fight, Bucky allowed Steve to guide him to his bedroom. The moment he slipped between the sheets, he curled up around a pillow. He could already feel his body relax, just by the smell of the sheets. They didn’t smell like vanilla, like those he had on his own bed. They smelled of Steve, of his sleep and his dreams. A strong arm was draped over him as Steve moved close to him, placing his chin on top of Bucky’s head.

As they laid there, Bucky curled up as small as he could and Steve holding him like a shield against the outside world, both slowly drifted away. It was strange just how calming they worked on each other. Bucky’s sleep was empty, neither good nor bad dreams filling it. Just an endless darkness, that didn’t feel threatening for the first time.

Barely two hours later, Bucky awoke again. Steve was still holding him, a heavy breathing sounding in Bucky’s ear. Carefully, doing his best not to wake the other up, he glanced at the nightstand to get a look of the alarm clock. Four AM. They weren’t even close to morning.

His body still tired, Bucky laid down again, hoping he would catch some sleep again. Until a strange noise reached him. It was almost like the clicking of a lock. Frowning, he listening closely, hoping it’d just been his sleepy mind misinterpreting a noise outside. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. After a few seconds, there were hesitant footsteps.

Bucky felt paralyzed, his heart racing and his breathing ragged. His shaking hand went up to Steve’s shoulder and he shook it gently. A gentle moan escaped Steve’s lips, which he silenced quickly by placing a finger on his lips. In the soft moonlight that fell through the curtains, two bright blue eyes stared at Bucky in confusion.

“There’s someone in the flat,” Bucky whispered as softly as he could, scared the stranger outside might hear.

“What?” Steve whispered back, clearly still half asleep.

“I heard the front door unlock and then footsteps. Listen.”

Now they both laid there, listening intently for any sound. The footsteps were still there, catching Steve’s attention as well. After shooting a quick glance and a warning to stay where he was at Bucky, he slipped out of bed and reached for something in the drawer of the nightstand. When Bucky heard the metallic click of a gun being loaded, he swallowed.

As Steve snuck out of the room, Bucky sat up. He wanted to follow the other’s advice because it was probably the smartest thing to do but he also didn’t want to helplessly sit there while he might get hurt. So, against Steve’s wish and his own rational mind, he stepped out of bed too. Behind the closet, he found a wooden baseball bat. If necessary, it could definitely serve as a weapon.

Reaching the bedroom door, Steve’s voice suddenly sounded.

“Police! Hands in the air where I can see ‘em.”

Silence for a second or two and then noise Bucky knew to associate with fighting. He rushed out of the room, his hands clenching around the bat so tightly his knuckles turned white. When he stormed into the living room, it took him a second to realize what was going on. A man, dressed in black and with his back to Bucky, was standing over a knocked down Steve. Blood was seeping down his temple, his gun out of reach. However, there was another gun in the room and it was being aimed at Steve’s head, ready to be fired.

“Don’t you dare!” Bucky growled loudly as he took a swing at the assailant’s head.

The impact was enough to knock the stranger unconscious and he dropped to the floor like a rag doll. Panting, Bucky stood there for a moment. He had never expected to have that kind of strength in his arms. In the back of his mind, he hoped he’d killed whoever the intruder was. After throwing the bat on the couch, he knelt down next to Steve, his hands hovering over his chest as he was afraid to hurt him by touching him.

“Are you okay?” he whispered softly, a worried glance traveling over the other’s body in search of other injuries.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Steve mumbled as he struggled to sit up, “That guy has a mean right one. Didn’t see it coming at all.”

Carefully, Bucky placed a hand on Steve’s cheek and turned his head to get a good look at the wound on his forehead. The skin was torn but the cut didn’t seem all too deep. Meanwhile, Steve glanced over his shoulder at the passed out attacker.

“I don’t think he was here to rob us,” he muttered.

Bucky looked behind him as well, shaking his head at the sight of the gun.

“He came here to kill us,” he replied hesitantly before turning back to Steve, “To kill me.”

“Good thing you have a talent for baseball, then.”

Even though the situation wasn’t funny at all, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He helped Steve up, taking in a deep breath as soon as he was back to his feet.

“I’ll call the police. If we find a connection between this guy and Pierce, we have more evidence against him.”

Bucky nodded, glancing over his shoulder again. Steve disappeared into the kitchen to make the call, leaving him alone with the unconscious man. Slowly he approached him, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. Perhaps he knew who the man was.

Kneeling down, he took a closer look. It was a bad idea, he knew that the moment he did it. When the stranger’s hands wrapped tightly around his neck, he tried to stumble back but the man’s grip was far too strong. Bucky struggled, gasping for air and clawing at his wrists but nothing seemed to work. In a matter of seconds, the man was on top of him, squeezing his throat shut. A black mist was already creeping at the edges of Bucky’s sight and his struggling weakened with every second that passed. He kicked around, hoping he could make some noise to alarm Steve.

“You’re going to die, you little ungrateful whore,” the man spat, his almost black eyes fixed on Bucky’s face, “You’re not going to ruin everything just because you have a crush on a cop.”

Bucky was close to giving up, his energy to fight back almost completely gone. He was going to die, he was sure of it. Perhaps, after all, it was for the best. His movements grew weak, allowing the stranger to squeeze even harder. Just when he thought it was all over, a flow of fresh air reached his lungs and he coughed. Confused and trembling, he glanced up, seeing Steve struggling with the intruder now. He laughed. The bastard laughed and it only grew harder with every punch he took.

“Ha! Look at you! The whore and the hero! Are you sure you want to risk it all for that filthy, worthless hooker!? You are not the first dick he takes in the ass and you certainly won’t be the last!”

The words turned Bucky’s stomach and he had trouble keeping his dinner inside. His fingers buried into the fabric of the couch as he hoisted himself up, still coughing and unstable on his feet. Steve kept punching the guy, but he just didn’t seem to go down again. He kept vomiting insults, making Bucky cringe at every word. He couldn’t stand this any longer.

In a blind impulse, he reached for the gun closest to him. Tears blurred his sight as his trembling fingers wrapped around the cold steel.

“Shut up,” he said weakly, struggling to stand up. “Shut up!”

“Bucky, don’t,” Steve tried softly, making Bucky realize he had gotten their attention.

However, he had no intention of doing what he was told. He was done with that. So, he raised the gun, pointing it right at the stranger, who was still mocking him with a wide grin on his lips.

“Maybe I’m a whore, but I never chose to be one. All I ever wanted was to find someone to love and be happy. You and you’re deranged boss took that from me. You took everything from me,” he hissed, leaning heavily on the back of the couch.

Steve was still standing between him and the stranger, his eyes wide and his look worried. Bucky could tell he was trying to find a way to calm him down but the thing was, he was already calm.

“Happy!? People like you are the happiest when they’re getting fucked into the mattress!”

At those words, he began bucking his hips like he was screwing someone, moaning and groaning loudly. It was more than Bucky could take. In a few seconds time, he had emptied the revolver in his hand, driving seven bullets into the man’s chest. He dropped like the leaf from a tree in autumn, a pool of blood spreading out around him on the wooden floor.

Steve rushed to Bucky first, taking the gun out of his hand and throwing it as far away as he could. He then hesitantly cupped his face. All this time, Bucky had stood there with tears streaming down his face and his eyes fixed on the dead body on the other side of the living room. Slowly, scared to death for his reaction, Bucky looked up at Steve.

“Why did you do that?” Steve whispered, letting his thumb caress Bucky’s cheek.

“I didn’t want you to hear all that. I didn’t want you to start thinking about me in the same way. He had to stop. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to make it stop.”

Steve sighed, bringing Bucky’s face close to his and leaning their foreheads together. Sobbing lightly, Bucky closed his eyes and pressed himself against Steve’s body, letting the other’s warmth numb the aching in his chest.

“I’ll fix this, Buck. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. What did you do now, Bucky?


	21. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If we stick to the same story, they’ll rule it as self-defence and you’ll be fine. Please, Bucky.”

Over the years, Bucky had grown used to people whispering about him but it didn’t mean he didn’t still hate it. It made him feel vulnerable and unable to defend himself against whatever lies people might be spreading. Every few seconds, his eyes flicked up to the four people in the corner of the room, who were probably discussing his future. He could see Steve rapidly move his hands, seemingly trying to convince the others of something. Natasha shook her head, not pleased with Steve’s proposition.

His gaze fell to his hands again, which he’d pushed between his legs in an attempt to stop himself from scratching the back of his hand. His skin was already raw and swollen, but the pain took his mind away from what he’d done. He’d killed a man and even if his victim hadn’t exactly been a sweetheart, the thought he’d taken a life messed with his head.

Too engrossed in his own thoughts, Bucky hadn’t noticed the conversation in the corner had ended and Steve had come up to the couch. When the other sat down next to him, Bucky’s head popped up in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. Noticing it was just Steve, he relaxed again.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked softly as a hand went to rest on Bucky’s back.

Bucky shrugged, glancing at the large window of the living room. The sun was already coming up, casting a few rays into the room. So much had happened in the past few hours, he’d only noticed half of it. He’d noticed the police arriving, the medical examiners taking the body, Steve insisting the officers took a statement later during the day because Bucky was too tired and upset. After the uniforms had disappeared, Natasha and Sam had showed up. They’d been talking to Steve for over an hour now.

As Steve’s fingers began playing with the strands of hair in Bucky’s neck, he closed his eyes and dropped his chin. Leaning into Steve for support, a long breath escaped him and he shivered.

“You need to sleep,” Steve’s voice whispered.

“I’m going to jail.”

The words slipped off Bucky’s lips before he could realize what he was saying. Not that both of them didn’t know the truth. What Bucky had done, wasn’t self-defence, it was murder. At the time he’d emptied the revolver into the intruder’s chest, there had been no immediate threat.

“No, you won’t. I won’t let that happen. You’re not the bad guy here.”

No matter how reassuring Steve wanted to sound, the words had little to no effect on Bucky. He knew that what he’d done was wrong, even after almost being strangled. It scared him. He was sure he wouldn’t do well in prison, especially considering his background. At the thought of what might happen to him, he gasped for air and tears welled in his eyes.

Steve pulled him closer, now wrapping both arms around him to hold him. Bucky didn’t know whether to push the other away or hide in his embrace, so he just stayed still.

“You are not going to jail, Buck, over my dead body. I promised I’d fix this so I will do exactly that,” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s hair, rocking him gently.

Bucky sighed, deciding not to reply because he didn’t want to fight, not now. He just wanted it all to be over already. He didn’t want to have to deal with Pierce and his men anymore; he didn’t want to live in fear. He was just so tired of running and hiding and making sure he didn’t anger anyone. In fact, he was tired of everything.

The combination of mental exhaustion and the slow movement of Steve rocking him caused Bucky to drift into an uneasy sleep before he could notice. When he woke up again, he was lying in Steve’s bed, curled up into the sheets. He figured Steve must’ve carried him to bed after falling asleep

After a quick glance at the alarm clock, Bucky realized it was already two in the afternoon. Slipping out of bed, he stretched his aching muscles before leaving the bedroom. The moment he stepped into the hallway, the smell of food filled his nostrils and he made his way to the kitchen. There, he found Steve making soup as the radio played softly.

“Hey,” Bucky mumbled, noticing his voice was husky, probably from sleeping.

Steve looked up from his soup with a little smile. He wiped his hands on a towel before approaching Bucky. Two strong hands cupped his stubbly cheeks as a light kiss was pressed to his lips.

“Feeling a bit better?” Steve asked with a hopeful tone to his voice.

“I guess,” Bucky replied with a shrug, still not awake enough to really tell, “Is that soup?”

Steve glanced behind him at the pot before nodding.

“Yeah, chicken soup. I don’t know if it isn’t poisonous, but I tried my best.”

Bucky freed himself from Steve’s grip and approached the stove, glancing down at the soup. He quickly grabbed a spoon from the drawer and took a small taste. Turning back to Steve, he smiled.

“A little more salt and then it’s perfect.”

In the back of his mind, Bucky realized this was ridiculous. He’d murdered someone barely twelve hours ago and they were discussing soup like it was just another normal day in their lives. Steve could probably tell he was struggling, as he sighed lightly and gestured they should sit down. Bucky followed him to the kitchen table, not entirely sure if he wanted to know what the other had to say.

“We have to give a statement at the police station at five o’clock. They’ll ask you what happened, if you knew who the intruder was, that kind of stuff.”

“Then I’ll tell them.”

Steve reached for his hand, locking eyes with Bucky. By the look on his face, Bucky could tell what came next was important.

“You need to tell them exactly what happened: that the guy broke in, attacked me, tried to strangle you… but when you tell about when you shot him, you have to say he came at you, that you grabbed the gun and shot him because he was attacking you after knocking me down. I’ll say the same thing.”

“Steve, I – No, I can’t do that. I won’t let you lie to protect me,” Bucky protested, shaking his head.

Steve squeezed his hand, the worry on his face growing with every passing second.

“If we stick to the same story, they’ll rule it as self-defence and you’ll be fine. Please, Bucky.”

He still hesitated. He’d gotten sick of lying and cheating a long time ago but this was his life they were talking about. The asshole had gotten what he deserved, who knows how many people he’d hurt. Perhaps he did the world a favour by killing him. It wouldn’t be right for him to go to jail for killing someone who had it coming.

Eventually, he nodded slowly.

“Okay. Talk me through it. I don’t want to mess up on the details.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this feeling this fic is going to turn out waaaay longer than I intended. Woops?
> 
> Also, I might get to writing a post-tws fic once this is one is completed. I'm already drafting up a storyline.


	22. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This won’t take long, sergeant Rogers. Please, do sit down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates over the past week. I have to take exams for classes I failed over the year for the next three weeks so I'm afraid I'll only be able to update sporadically. Sorry, darlings :/

Once again, Steve realized his colleagues weren’t exactly masters of subtlety. As he sat outside the interrogation room, he could feel their eyes burning on him. He even suspected some of them to pass by more than usual on purpose, in the hope of getting a glimpse of what was going on.

Apparently, the news someone had been murdered in his apartment had caused quite a commotion at the station. People had started gossiping, trying to guess what was going on. When information about the incident had leaked, it had only made things worse. Nobody really understood the situation, making them judge him all too quickly.

It annoyed Steve to no end, but he also knew that trying to fix the things wouldn’t lead to anything. So he tried to ignore the whispering for the time being, hoping they’d be done here soon and got to go home.

As the door opened next to him, he looked up in curiosity at the man leaving the room. Bucky was even paler than usual or perhaps it was just the artificial light that gave him that ghostly glow. Steve rose from his chair, slipping his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and raising his eyebrows in question. In reply, Bucky slowly nodded and attempted to force a light smile to his lips.

“Steve, your turn,” a voice said from inside the room.

“I won’t be long,” Steve whispered to Bucky, trying to look reassuring but failing quite miserably.

He closed the door of the room behind him, locking eyes with the man at the table. Phil Coulson was one of the best detectives they had, with a heart of gold and a love for catching bad guys. He was one of the few cops Steve hadn’t begun doubting after Bucky had told Pierce had quite a few officers on his payroll.

“This won’t take long, sergeant Rogers. Please, do sit down.”

Steve sunk onto the chair on the opposite side of the table.

“Thanks for letting us do this now. Bucky was in no shape to give a statement last night,” he said, shooting a small smile at Coulson.

“No problem. Things like these are quite traumatizing, forcing someone when they’re still in shock is never a good idea. Now, please state your name and date of birth for the record.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, born on July 4th 1992.”

“Mister Rogers, the victim – “

Coulson’s sentence was cut off by a sudden burst of noise from the hallway, causing both men to glance up in confusion. Phil rushed to the door to see what was going on. Steve couldn’t help but follow him, worried that the commotion had to do with Bucky.

Once out of the room, it took a while before Steve realized what was happening. Bucky still sat on his chair, completely tensed up and pale as a sheet as his fingers clutched around the edges of his seat. Natasha stood about two meters away from him, her voice echoing through the hall as she yelled at someone stretched out on the ground in front of her. As he walked closer, the man she’d apparently knocked down turned out to be Brock Rumlow. Even the mere sight of the asshole’s face caused anger to boil inside Steve and he could feel his hands itch.

“What happened?” he asked, trying his best to control his voice.

“He was making very inappropriate gestures at James,” Natasha replied slowly, the hatred dripping from her voice.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” Rumlow protested but Steve refused to acknowledge it.

Before anyone could say anything else, Coulson went to stand between them and Rumlow, his eyebrows raised in clear disapproval.

“That’s enough. Please step away,” he ordered, leaving no room for protest.

They did as they were asked, backing away as Rumlow got to his feet again. Steve had already turned around to focus on Bucky again when he heard a soft laugh.

“I don’t get why they’re so fed up about some manwhore – “

Rumlow didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, as Steve was already on top of him, his fist coming down to meet the other man’s face over and over again. It was as if every speck of anger inside him had burst at the sound of Brock’s voice mocking Bucky and there was no stopping him now.

He had already lifted his fist in the air to hit the other for the fifth time when two hands clenched around his wrist, preventing him from lunging at the man beneath him. Looking up with a face twisted in anger at the person holding him back, he panted for air. Until his eyes met those of Bucky, who were silently begging him to stop. In mere seconds, the anger disappeared, making him realize what he was doing.

“Don’t,” Bucky said softly, avoiding looking down at the almost unconscious man, “You’re only lowering yourself to his level. You’re better than this.”

Defeated, Steve lowered his hand and rolled off Rumlow, allowing two other cops to come to his aid. Meanwhile, Bucky knelt down next to him, worry radiating off his face.

“I-I’m sorry,” Steve muttered.

He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the right thing to say but he said it anyways. Bucky forced a faint smile before helping him up. Completely numb, Steve sat down on a chair on the side of the hallway, Natasha standing nearby with an almost as worried expression as Bucky. The only thing that broke through to Steve was Bucky’s voice: “I’ll need to bandage this.”

With a confused frown, Steve glanced down at his right hand, which was laying in Bucky’s lap. It was only now that he realized the skin on his knuckles had torn from hitting Rumlow. A few drops of blood seeped down his wrist.

“It’s fine, Bucky. I’ll survive.”

Bucky sighed, keeping Steve’s hand in his lap while they waited for whatever was next to come. Coulson seemed to be the one trying to fix this mess, as he was in a livid discussion with Rumlow at the other end of the hallway. After a few minutes, he came up to them, clearly not amused.

“He’s not pressing charges for assault or filing a complaint to the Internal Affairs Bureau but only because you could argue he was being homophobic. You’re lucky, Rogers. Don’t try this again, especially not inside the goddamn police station.”

Coulson’s voice was firm and it almost felt like he was reprimanding a naughty child, but at the same time, there was a hint of approval in his words.

“Thanks,” Steve replied weakly, smiling up at the man.

“We’ll still have to take your statement, but for the time being, I can work with the information you gave us last night. Go home, get some rest, look after those bruises. I’ll contact you later this week.”

Steve nodded and Coulson took off, leaving Natasha, Bucky and Steve behind. It was silent for a moment, until Natasha’s voice sounded.

“You have a mean right one, Rogers. Remind me never to piss you off.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried.”

Just a split second long, there was a grin on Steve’s lips before he got up. Bucky followed his example, immediately taking hold of his uninjured hand.

“Let’s go home.”


	23. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve had to deal with violent men all your life. I don’t want to join the long list of people you’re scared of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a while, exams have been a bitch :/  
> The chapter hasn't been beta-read yet so mistakes may still be in there. I'll get to it asap.

Bucky closed the door behind him as soon as they walked into the flat. The lock clicked as he turned the key. Not that it would matter. If someone really wanted to get in, they would. They’d come to that conclusion not so long ago.

Steve hadn’t said a word since they’d left the police station and it worried him. He’d never expected Steve to get that angry for a stupid, homophobic remark. It’d scared him but he’d never tell Steve that. He knew it would cause both of them too much pain.

Gently, he slipped his arms around Steve’s waist and nuzzled his face in against the taller man’s shoulder. The smell of vanilla body wash and mint shampoo combined with something that was uniquely Steve’s filled his nose.

“I’m sorry for what happened back there,” Steve whispered, gripping onto Bucky’s hands.

“It’s okay,” Bucky replied softly, placing his chin on Steve’s shoulder and letting out a sigh.

“It really isn’t.”

Steve pulled away from the embrace, leaving Bucky behind with a hurt look on his face as his arms dropped to his sides again. He pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his sweater, hoping to hand they had started to tremble. Rejection of any kind, especially when it came from Steve, still cut deep into his self-esteem.

“Steve –“ he started but he was cut off before he could say anything else.

“You’ve had to deal with violent men all your life. I don’t want to join the long list of people you’re scared of.”

“I’m not scared of you!”

Bucky had exclaimed the words louder than he’d intended to, catching Steve by surprise. He sighed, licked his dry lips and took a step closer to the other man.

“I could never fear you. You beat that asshole to protect me. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me, deliberately or accidentally.”

He reached out to Steve, softly taking the other man’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. It was obvious Steve still didn’t want to believe him, but he stayed silent. Neither of them wanted to fight over this. As he came closer, Bucky allowed Steve to hold him. The feeling of the other’s fingers playing with strands of his dark brown hair brought goosebumps to his skin.

“You’ve got such a blind faith in me, Buck. I’m scared I’m going to disappoint you someday.”

Bucky shook his head as he glanced up at him, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Don’t say that. You could never disappoint me. You’ve been my hero from the moment we met and nothing will ever change that.”

“People can do very stupid things very easily, Bucky.”

“Not you.”

Steve already opened his mouth to protest, but Bucky decided they were not getting into this, not now. As he gently pressed his lips against Steve’s, his fingers grabbed onto the fabric of the man’s shirt. Steve was eager to return the kiss, hands snaking behind Bucky’s back to pull him in even closer.

“I enjoy that much more than arguing, to be honest,” Bucky chuckled when he pulled back, an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled, barely able to hide his own grin before planting his lips onto Bucky’s again.

This time, the kiss was much more passionate. Bucky felt the tip of Steve’s tongue against his lower lip and he willingly opened his lips to let it in. He hadn’t been kissed like this in ages. It didn’t feel forced, he didn’t hate the feeling of Steve’s tongue exploring his mouth. For once, he didn’t mind surrendering to another man.

When Steve pulled away to suck in some air, there was a bright blush on Bucky’s cheeks and he felt dizzy in a good way. However, the absence of Steve’s lips on his bothered him. Lifting his head to kiss Steve again, there was a hoarse chuckle from the other but he followed Bucky’s lead anyway. Again, their lips locked, this time Bucky being the one to dominate.

Steve’s hands slipped underneath the edges of Bucky’s shirt, cold fingertips gracing the skin of his back. They traced up his spine, lifting the shirt as they went. Quickly, Bucky slipped out of it, tossing it to the ground and revealing his bare chest. Steve’s lips pulled from his to kiss down his neck and onto his shoulders. It was such a gentle gesture and Bucky closed his eyes to enjoy it to the fullest. His own hands had found their way to Steve’s stomach where they explored his abs.

Bucky stumbled backwards until he met the wall behind him. Steve followed, catching on to his plan and locking Bucky in between the stones and his own body. He discarded his own shirt, leaving Bucky in awe for a second as he glanced down at Steve’s perfectly toned chest. He was human perfection.

For just a moment, their eyes met. There was something stormy in Steve’s bright blue eyes; something that told Bucky he was wanted in a good way. He wanted to discover every inch of Steve’s body and cherish it and he could tell Steve wanted exactly the same. Through the fabric of their trousers, Bucky could feel Steve growing harder with every touch, every kiss. As Steve’s lips nipped at the sensitive skin in his neck, he realized he didn’t feel disgusted by the feeling of an erection pressing into his thigh for the first time in long. He knew that giving himself to Steve wouldn’t be something he’d regret.

Hands slipped down between them, unbuckling Steve’s belt and pulling it out of the man’s trousers before falling to the ground. The buttons of his pants followed quickly. The waistband of dark blue boxershorts became visible.

“Bucky,” Steve whispered, eyes closed and lips slightly parted.

When he didn’t reply, Steve pulled away. Bucky pouted, glancing up at the other and reaching for his hips to pull him in again. Steve’s hands took firm hold of his wrists and he sighed.

“We can’t do this.”

Bucky was surprised, he honestly was. He’d known that if things ever lead to this, Steve would be worried they were moving too fast or Bucky had the wrong motives for wanting this but he’d never expected a downright refusal. He retracted his hands as if he’d burned himself, eyes cast down to the ground to avoid meeting Steve’s gaze.

“You don’t want me,” Bucky whispered, his voice shaking.

He’d been up on Cloud Nine mere seconds ago but he’d crashed to earth at a mindblowing speed. He felt sick to his stomach, the little monster inside his head whispering Steve found him filthy and disgusting after all.

“No. No!” Steve protested, stepping back towards Bucky and cupping his face, lifting it so he couldn’t but look into his eyes, “I want you, I really do. I just… we can’t do this. You’re not ready, I’m not ready and if someone finds out, I guarantee you they’ll use it against both of us. It’s just too early, Buck. I’m sorry.”

Bucky sighed shakily, leaning his forehead against Steve’s as he fought back the tears that were welling up. He knew that Steve was telling the truth, that it’d be risky for them to get into that kind of relationship right now but in the back of his mind, he was fighting the idea that he was being rejected.

“Say something, Buck.”

“If things had been different… If we hadn’t met like we have, if we were different people… Would you still care for me or are you just doing this out of pity?” Bucky muttered under his breath, too scared for the possible answer.

“Jesus, Bucky. I don’t pity you,” Steve replied almost instantly, breathing out against Bucky’s lips, “If the situation had been different, you would still be the single most important thing on my mind.”

He gently pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, holding him close as he let out a sigh.

“Our time will come, Buck. I promise.”


	24. Pierce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How dare you!? How dare you act like you’re concerned about me!? Do you have any idea what you’re making me do!?” Bucky screamed, leaving Pierce to sigh gently.
> 
> “I know exactly what I’m making you do, James. Don’t make such a fuss,” Pierce replied calmly, glancing up at the boy after his words. His eyes were cold as ice, void of any compassion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's taken so long for me to update. Uni has been hectic and I've been having writer's block on and off the past few months.
> 
> Also, big warning sign. There's some real bad homophobia in this chapter. Ye have been warned.

“Please tell me they are dead.”

Two stale blue eyes glared over de edge of the newspaper, focusing on the man that had just walked into the large living room.

“I’m afraid not. They managed to eliminate our henchman.”

“Your henchman, Rumlow. You were the one who assured me this guy, and I quote, was extremely competent and would solve our little problem. I hope you have a very good explanation for this failure, or you might pay the same price he has paid for it.”

Alexander Pierce never yelled. He preferred staying calm and rational, but that didn’t mean people didn’t notice when he was angry. He had a way of making sure everyone knew they would be punished for their mistakes in the most horrible ways without ever raising his voice. Even a man like Brock Rumlow, who had no conscience and feared nearly nothing, started trembling under the cold stare of the most dangerous man in New York.

“I don’t, sir. Somehow, Rogers and Barnes managed to overpower my man and kill him. I don’t have access to the file but according to my source, it was Barnes who fired the gun in self-defence.”

There was a deafening silence in the room as Pierce stood up from the couch and carelessly tossed his paper on the coffee table. With his hands in the pockets of his pants, he began pacing in front of the ceiling-high windows, which gave access to a large balcony.

“So, let me get this straight. We have one rebelling whore with a grudge, a nosey cop who doesn’t know when to give up, an entire police force trying to find out who wants their colleague dead and they are all under the protection and leadership of Nicholas Fury, the one DA we have never been able to bribe.”

Pierce stopped in his tracks and glanced at his right hand, who had gone pale as a sheet and looked rather uncomfortable. Hesitantly, Rumlow nodded, hoping he would not be shot right there and then. Luckily for him, Pierce knew he was just too valuable for the moment. Nobody could cause pain like Brock Rumlow.

“One last chance, Rumlow. That’s all you’re getting to solve this mess before I am forced to more drastic measures.”

With a small wave of his hand, Pierce dismissed the man from the room. Right now, he was not in the mood to deal with anymore stupidity. As soon as the door closed behind Rumlow, he let out a deep sigh. He needed air.

Walking out onto the balcony, Pierce’s eyes scanned the skyline of New York. Somewhere in this enormous city two pathetic little men had decided to make his life in a living Hell. He’d had problems before but none had been so persistent as these two idiots.

James Buchanan Barnes. If he’d known that punk would cause him this much trouble, he’d never have brought him from that orphanage. It was true he’d made him quite a bit of money over the past few years, but didn’t outweigh the problems he caused. He still remembered that first spark of rebellion in the boy.

_It was a cold February day in 2009. He’d been enjoying his newspaper and a nice breakfast when he heard footsteps approach the dining room. Not looking up from the newspaper, he just waited for the unexpected visitor to announce himself._

_“Pierce,” a soft voice called out, one he instantly recognized._

_“Bucky,” Pierce replied as he put down the paper, glancing over at the door with a gentle smile, “What a surprise. Can I offer you some breakfast?”_

_The boy didn’t seem pleased with his words, as he just stood there in the opening of the door, glaring at the older man. Pierce frowned, tilting his head._

_“Is something wrong, son?”_

_“How can you even ask that?” Bucky spat, hatred making his voice tremble as he took a few steps towards the table._

_It was only now that Pierce noticed how tired and unhealthy the boy looked. He was pale, with bag under his eyes and slightly greasy hair. It made Pierce only frown harder._

_“You look horrible. Please, sit down. Eat something,” he offered, gesturing at an empty chair beside him._

_However, his kind offer seemed to trigger something inside the young man. With a growl of anger, he grabbed a can of orange juice from the table and shattered it on the ground._

_“How dare you!? How dare you act like you’re concerned about me!? Do you have any idea what you’re making me do!?” Bucky screamed, leaving Pierce to sigh gently._

_“I know exactly what I’m making you do, James. Don’t make such a fuss,” Pierce replied calmly, glancing up at the boy after his words. His eyes were cold as ice, void of any compassion._

_“Why?” Bucky now asked, staring directly into Pierce’s eyes._

_The older man could tell the other wanted some answers and he would give them to him. Whether he’d like them was another question._

_“Because it is the only thing you’re useful for,” he said in the same calm tone, rising from his chair as he did so._

_Bucky straightened his back as well, his eyes following him as he walked up to him._

_“You see, when I took you in after your eighteenth birthday, I had such high expectations for you, James. You were handsome, bright, determined. I have never had children of my own, so I hoped that I could one day hand my life’s work to you. That is, until I found out how perverted you are.”_

_He could tell James didn’t follow. He’d expected that. Boys like him rarely saw the fault in their own behaviour. Pierce sighed, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers before walking past Bucky._

_“I knew of your sinful relationship with that Daniel boy from the moment it started. At first, I thought my information must be wrong and let me tell you, James, I never think that. Until I saw it with my own eyes. It was such a disappointment to conclude you were nothing but another one of those sick creatures that corrupt the face of this planet. So, now that I could never trust you with my work, I decided to use you in the only way I saw fit: as a way for those other sick bastards to hide their perverted desires and at least keep up the appearance of being good Christians.”_

_There was a long silence between them. Without even looking, Pierce could tell the boy was having a hard time accepting the truth._

_“This is a punishment? My punishment for being gay?” Bucky eventually blurted out, his voice shaking and Pierce figured the boy was crying._

_Turning around to face him, his assumption turned out to be right. There were tears rolling down the boy’s cheeks. It made the sight of him only more disgusting._

_“Yes, James, this is your punishment for being an abomination.”_

_“You’re insane, Pierce. I’m getting out of here.”_

_Alexander Pierce was surprisingly fast for his age and he managed to pin James to a wall before he could leave the room. With one hand tightly around the boy’s throat, he glared down at him, watching him gasp for air and struggle to break free._

_“We both know Daniel’s death wasn’t an accident. I killed him and I will kill you too if you dare to run. You’ve cost me a lot of money and you will pay me back, in the ways I decide. If that means a hundred men have to fuck you in the ass in a week, then so be it. You will not protest, you will not flee, you will not tell anyone or I swear to God, I will hunt you down and make you beg me to kill you. Have I made myself clear?”_

_By the time he had finished, Bucky had already turned a bright red. Releasing his grip, Pierce stepped back to let him sink to his knees before him, coughing and gasping for air._

_“Am I clear, James?” he demanded again._

_“Yes,” the younger man forced out, still trying to catch his breath._

_“Good. Now, I have other business to attend do. Feel free to finish my breakfast.”_

Pierce slowly shook his head, closing his eyes as his mind revisited that memory. Since that day, the boy had been perfectly obedient. Unfortunately, it hadn’t stayed that way. Instead, he had met this obnoxious cop who thought he could save the poor little prostitute and the world as well.

“You better be dead by morning, Steven Rogers, or so help me God.”


	25. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize to all the lovely people who have been putting up with my absence the past few months. I've been focused on university things, theater and tumblr rp. Add to that my newfound love for Les Misérables and a writing block as well. Hopefully I'll be able to post a few new chapters in the coming weeks to make it all up to you.

  
The silence in the room made it almost impossible to breathe. Bucky had no idea how to act around Steve anymore, not since their failed attempt at being intimate. Even though Steve had done his best to convince him of the opposite, he still felt like he had been rejected. It was just a thought that didn’t let go, wouldn’t be pushed aside. It was driving Bucky insane, to be honest.

Shifting in his spot on the couch, his bright blue eyes tried to focus on the tv before him. Some dumb comedy was playing and he had no interest in following the horrible storyline. A part of him wanted to talk, but the other part thought that might not be the brightest idea. So he just sat there, his mind a chaos and his body restless.

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around his and squeezed it softly. Bucky’s eyes shot up at the man beside him. Steve just looked at him, a faint but comforting smile at his lips. A gentle tug at Bucky’s hand. They communicated without words. Bucky knew it was an invitation. Carefully he laid down, placing his head on Steve’s lap and pulling his knees up to his chest. Steve’s arm was draped over his side while his other hand buried in Bucky’s hair. He couldn’t resist and laced their fingers, their intertwined hands now laying on his stomach, both moving to the rhythm of Bucky’s breathing.

“I love you.”

The words were out before Bucky could stop them. He hadn’t even noticed himself thinking about it. Mentally cursing himself, his entire body tensed up, waiting for Steve’s reaction. He’d be laughed at, told he shouldn’t act so silly. This day was just getting worse with every second that passed.

“Bucky,” Steve sighed as he paused the movie.

And there it was. The start of a talk Bucky didn’t want to have. He struggled up, avoiding Steve’s gaze and pulling away from him as far as he could.

“I should go to bed,” he muttered, hoping he’d be able to flee before the other man could stop him.

Unfortunately for him, Steve caught onto his plan and grabbed his wrist before he could make a run for it.

“Steve, I…”

“No. Don’t,” Steve was quick to interrupt him, tugging at his wrist so Bucky sunk down onto the couch again.

He didn’t dare to look up at the blond beside him, just staring down at the carpet beneath his bare feet.

“Look, I can’t deny that I don’t have feelings for you. It’d be an insult to the both of us, but at this point, neither of us can afford to be in this kind of relationship with each other. It could compromise the entire case and perhaps even allow Pierce to walk.”  
Bucky sighed, shaking his head a bit before dropping it into his hands. He knew that Steve was right, but it was hard to accept that truth. It seemed life was just out to make it impossible for him to find a decent relationship.

It was like the universe was helping him a hand instead at that moment because at that moment, the ringtone of Steve’s cellphone sounded. The blond seemed conflicted for a second before finally reaching out for the device.

“I have to take this,” he muttered, already rising to his feet.

As Steve made his way to the kitchen, he answered the call. Now Bucky was left by himself in the living room. A sudden coldness overwhelmed him and he fell back against the couch, pulling his knees up against his chest. He’d wanted to die before but never this strongly as at that very moment. It would make everything so much easier for everyone; no more pain, no more fear, no more problems. Slowly, Bucky sunk down on his side, a lost tear rolling down his cheek. He wondered where it came from. He’d thought that, by now, he’d used up all his tears.

It took Steve only a minute or two to return, a worried expression twisting his face. As he sat back down next to Bucky, he didn’t even seem to notice he was crying. Bucky didn’t react to his return, didn’t even move a muscle.

“Fury is putting you under witness protection until the case goes to trial.”

The news made Bucky turn his head and look at the man beside him, a confused look on his face.

“W – what do you mean?” he asked, voice uncertain.

“It means that … “ Steve sighed, dipped his head and closed his eyes, “It means you’ll live in a safehouse on a secret location until you can testify. It’s for your protection.”

Bucky pushed himself up from the couch again, his tears drying but an ice cold fear getting hold of him.

“Alone?”

“No. A U.S. Marshall will be with you at all times, to protect you against attacks.”

It was exactly those words that Bucky had dreaded to hear. It meant that he’d be separated from Steve. The realization that he’d have to trust someone that was the blond man nearly paralyzed him. He didn’t want that. There was no way he could ever feel safe without Steve right next to him. So he violently shook his head.

“No. No! I don’t want to go!” he exclaimed, almost like an angry child that didn’t get any candy at the store, but he was honestly scared to death. “They can’t make me go! Steve, please! I can’t be without you. Pierce has influence in every agency in this country. I won’t trust anyone but you! You have to stay with me!”

The words had come out in one long breath, panic flushing his cheeks. He was almost hyperventilating as he ended his last sentence. The bright blue eyes that had finally started twinkling again were now filled with a fear they had never known before, not even in the years he had spent under Pierce’s wing. His hand reached for Steve’s, almost crushing it when his fingers finally folded around the other’s.

Steve seemed a bit taken back by Bucky’s reaction and he was out of words for a moment. Then, he gently pulled Bucky into his arms. That feeling of being safe in Steve’s embrace calmed the young man a bit, but not enough to chase away the fear he was feeling.

“Please, Steve,” he begged softly, his entire body trembling as he crawled away into Steve’s strong arms. By God, he wanted to just disappear into him right there and then.

“It’s okay, Buck,” he heard Steve mutter against the top of his skull, “I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps I can convince Fury. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

Bucky let out a whine as he pressed his face into Steve’s shirt, closing his eyes as he did so. This man was all he had anymore; he trusted and loved him like he had no other before. There was no way he would give up this feeling. It was too dangerous. He’d lose it; he’d lose Steve and God knew he would not survive that.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, can someone please explain to me why this story kept getting kudos even though it hadn't been updated in ages? I mean, I'm incredibly flattered but I don't understand. xd Did someone promote this story or something?


	26. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re ready. Get your bags, boys. You’re going on a roadtrip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while again since the last update but here I am again. :3  
> I do bring some 'bad' news: this fic will be ending soon. Before that happens, of course, there will be a few more fluffy and a lot of angsty moments but the end is near.  
> On a brighter note, I'm already working on a new Stucky fic in the same genre as this one. So no worries, there will be more of my Stucky madness floating around here ^^

The next day, at barely six o’clock in the morning, Natasha and Sam already arrived at Steve’s flat to brief him about Bucky’s transportation to the safehouse. Fury had decided to go out of state, in an attempt to limit the possibility of Pierce having any influence. Apparently, Bucky would be living in Florida until the investigation wrapped up and they could take the case to trial. Steve could tell his friends were nervous about the whole situation. There was so much that could go wrong with the operation and the risk of casualties were extremely high. Everyone was on edge.

Steve could tell it made Bucky uncomfortable, knowing that all this fuss was because of him. The poor man didn’t dare to look anyone in the eye. Instead, he just sat in a corner of the sofa, fingers fiddling with the hem of a t-shirt Steve had borrowed him. He’d said his smell would calm him down and even though Steve found that rather creepy, it was also a bit cute.

The only person they were still waiting for was Fury himself. He was the only one who knew the exact address of the safehouse at that point, so they couldn’t do anything before he got there. Steve made his way over to the couch, sitting down next to Bucky and placing a gentle hand on the other man’s back. Two bright blue eyes flicked up to meet his and Steve smiled reassuringly. He felt how the brunet leaned into the touch before placing his head on Steve’s shoulder. With a sigh, he buried his nose in Bucky’s hair and closed his eyes, trying to silence the own panicking voices inside his mind.

The harsh sound of the doorbell broke through the moment of silence. Sam was already on his way to open the door, bringing Fury with him when he returned to the living room. Steve quickly rose to his feet again.

“Good morning,” the older man said plainly, “Are we ready to leave?”

“Yeah, we packed the most important things and are good to go,” Natasha replied as she stood up from her chair, “I’ll go downstairs with Sam and secure a perimeter.”

Fury gave her a short nod of approval before allowing them to leave the apartment. For a moment, there was a silence between the three remaining people in the room. Then, Steve approached Nick and cleared his throat.

“Can I have a word with you?” he asked softly, gesturing at the door that lead to the kitchen, “In private.”

Without much hesitation, Fury followed him out of the living room, an obviously curious look on his face. Steve knew this would be a difficult conversation but he had promised Bucky and, to be honest, he understood. There was indeed a risk that the man tasked with Bucky’s protection was in Pierce’s pocket and the last thing he wanted was to send the man he loved towards a certain death.

“Is there a problem, officer Rogers?”

“There is. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to allow a complete stranger to protect Bucky. Pierce has influence in a lot of agencies and the chance of this guy being in his pocket is real. Next to that, there will be a trust problem. It already took me weeks to make Bucky trust me. I guarantee you it’ll take this Marshall even longer.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“That I go with him. He trusts me and I know who we’re dealing with.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Rogers. We need you back here to lead the charge.”

A sigh escaped Steve’s lips as he took a step closer to Fury, begging eyes locking onto the man’s face.

“Nick, please. I know it’s a lot to ask but do me this favour.”

Steve knew the other man could see right through him. Of course he knew of what had been going on between him and Bucky. This guy knew everything that was going on around him. The only question was whether he’d turn a blind eye or not. Steve prayed he would, because he’d hate to go behind Fury’s back. When the man finally nodded, a sigh of relief rolled off his lips.

“Fine, but you owe me, Rogers. I’m tasking you with Barnes’ protection. You better not fail.”

“No, sir. Of course not,” Steve replied as a smile crept on his lips.

Before anything else could be said, he walked past Fury again and into the living room, where Bucky was patiently waiting for them to return. As soon as he noticed the smile on Steve’s face, he seemed to relax a bit and he stood up.

“Are you ---?” he began, but was quickly interrupted by Fury’s cellphone ringing.

He picked up, gave a short grumble and glanced at both Steve and Bucky again.

“We’re ready. Get your bags, boys. You’re going on a roadtrip.”

Only a few minutes later, a grey car with a redheaded woman behind the wheel headed out of the city. The GPS device announced they had a sixteen hour drive ahead of them. Sam, on the passenger seat, let out a soft groan before leaning his head against the car window for a nap. On the backseat, Steve felt Bucky’s glance rest on him before a gentle hand took hold of his own. He smiled, fingers pushing in between the other man’s to offer some comfort. When he turned his head to look at the brunet, he noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“You should get some sleep,” he muttered, a worried tone to his voice.

“I can’t. Not now,” Bucky replied with a shake of his head, “I’m too nervous.”

“Then at least lay down for a bit.”

After a moment of hesitation, Bucky slowly sunk down, placing his head on Steve’s lap and closing his eyes. In an impulse, Steve brought his hand up to bury in the other’s brown locks of hair, letting them run through it in a soothing motion. Only a few minutes later, a smile grew at Steve’s lips as he noticed Bucky had slipped into a deep sleep despite his protestations. The poor man was exhausted after the events of the past few days, he deserved some rest. With a deep sigh, the blond’s gaze drifted out the car window, barely registering the world that slid by while they head south. At that moment, he could only pray this move to Florida would give them some peace, even if it was for a short while.


End file.
